Unfaithful
by Lady Rhapsody
Summary: B/V- Bulma is trapped and miserable in a forced marriage, and is Queen of Earth. But when she and her husband go on a diplomatic trip to another planet, a ray of hope emerges in a most unlikely place...
1. Part One: 1

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
...................................................................................Rhapsody~*  
________________________~*Part One*~: Memories  
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The little girl's silky skirts rustled as she hurried from her lessons with her governess to the church. The palace guards stared at her as she ran past, disheveled and shamefully late. She stumbled and slipped a little on the smooth ivory marble of the floor, but she did not hestitate for a second. When she reached the wide wooden doors of the church, the guards stationed there stopped her. The girl stared up at them with wide, impatient blue eyes, the like of which had never been seen before on their planet. After recovering from their initial shock, one of them spoke.  
  
"You're late, miss," the one on the right informed her sternly. "Tardiness is not tolerated in the kingdom of our king and queen."  
  
"Begging your pardon, sir," Bulma began coolly with the ease of someone older than her years. "But I'm only seven and half minutes late. The official rules state that ten minutes and ten minutes only shall be worthy of punishment."  
  
The guards scrambled to think of answer, but could not. Bulma noted their surprise and smiled sympathetically, clasping her hands together behind her back innocently.  
  
"I've just come from my lessons with Lady Rosaline," she explained with as much smugness as a seven-year-old girl could muster. "We went over royal protocol today, and I got the tardiness question correct on the first try."  
  
Reluctantly, the guards stepped aside and opened the heavy doors for her. The inside of the church was revealed, along with two hundred disapproving faces, including the ones of the priest and Bulma's parents. The priest continued his sermon as if she weren't even there, weaving in and out of the aisles to her family's pew in the front. She was usually proud of their position in the church-- front pews meant that you had a higher social standing-- but she was not today. Her fellow nobles stared and frowned at her as she passed to the very front of the church.   
  
Her mother seized the ribbon tied around the waist of her daughter's dress and pulled her into the pew, her powdered face stern. "How dare you dishonor our family in this manner! You shall be punished substantially for your actions when we get back to our chambers, girl!"  
  
Lady Briefs was talented and experienced enough to hiss this without a single person taking notice. Bulma glared at her with the stubbornness of a typical child and adopted a brooding expression all throughout the sermon. When the church members stood to sing, she sang deliberately off-key, even though she was naturally good singer. She squirmed and sighed until the very last 'amen'. Being a proper, God-fearing noblewoman, Lady Briefs did not chastise her until they were out of the church and well on their way down the palace's hallways. Lord Briefs trailed behind quietly, never one to get involved in arguments.  
  
"You are an embarrassment to our good name!" Bulma's mother scolded, dragging Bulma along by one small hand. "You are messy, stubborn, disobiedient, and for goodness' sake, Bulma, you are always late! Lady Rosaline releases you early every morning, so there is no excuse for being late to church!"  
  
"I did not mean to be late!" Bulma protested. "I was on time yesterday!"  
  
"Just barely," Lady Briefs reminded her bitterly. "I am sick and tired of making up excuses for you, Bulma. I try and I struggle, but you never listen! You are expected to behave like a good, proper young lady, not like the fishwive's daughter!"  
  
"I told you that I'm sorry," Bulma mumbled, looking down at her feet. "It won't happen again, Mother."  
  
"See to it that it doesn't." Lady Briefs released her daughter's hand.  
  
Bulma winced and fondled her hand, which felt as if it had been crushed. This was not the first time she had gotten herself into trouble for this very same offense. It seemed that no matter how hard she tried, there was no pleasing her strict mother. Bulma, in truth, had almost completely forgotten about church that morning. She had been so engrossed in examining the lovely colored fabrics that one of the palace servants had been mending that it had just... slipped her mind. Bulma was curious by nature, so it happened quite often. While her father adored his daughter's innocent interests and spunky personality, her mother had never been able to come to peace with it. Bulma couldn't even recall how many finishing schools she had been shipped off to over the course of her early childhood. She had ended up being kicked out or running away from most of them. Her mother had not been pleased.  
  
"Mind that you hang up your dress, Bulma," Lady Briefs called as they entered their palace suite and disappeared into her dressing room. "I won't tolerate any wrinkles this time!"  
  
Bulma sighed heavily. Her father heard her sigh and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Don't let her get under your skin, dear," he advised tiredly. "She's only doing what she thinks is best for our family. She's trying to turn you into a respectable young lady."  
  
"But I do not want to be a boring lady!" Bulma grumbled, crossing her little arms across her chest. "I want to play outside with other children, Daddy."  
  
Lord Briefs sighed and shook his head. Little Bulma had always wished to play in the sunshine with the peasant girls that could be seen from her balcony, but no matter how much the child wished for it. "I am sorry, Bulma, but nothing can be done about that. You have plenty of wonderful toys in your chambers to play with." The middle-aged man placed a fond hand on Bulma's curly head and disappeared after his wife into their chambers.  
  
Bulma watched him leave, her young heart's desires seemingly forever out of her reach. The girl let her arms fall limply to her sides and trudged to her room. It was furnished completely in tasteful shades of pink, the customary and almost required color for a noble girl's bedroom. It was light and feminine, with plenty of lace trimmings. It was littered with stuffed animals, embroidery needles and thread, and more toys than an average kid could even dream of. But none of this meant anything to Bulma. She ignored all of her material possessions and headed out to her balcony, where she had a clear view of the town below.  
  
Sun-tanned children in dirty, comfortable-looking clothing ran through the streets, giggling and chasing each other in a very unladylike manner. Bulma fingered her own expensive, uncomfortable dress and wished for a simple, homespun garment of her own. She also noticed that the little girls had their hair down and free. This was a practice strictly forbidden in first-class society. It was a sign of a 'loose woman', whatever that meant. A proper lady only let her hair down before her husband, and her husband only. Bulma fingered a bouncy, restrained curl and sighed discontentedly.  
  
One of the children, a raggedy-looking girl of about Bulma's age, stopped in her tracks as she noticed Bulma's dreamy staring. Her playmates stopped also and offered Bulma the customary curtsy or bow that peasants were expected to do before noble blood. Bulma nodded casually, wishing that instead of being gaped at, she could be down there playing with her lower-classed peers.   
  
"Hello!" she called down daringly, waving a hand excitedly.  
  
The third-class children noticed the sparkling bracelets she wore and the golden ring her father had given her a year ago and tried not to stare. Not a single one dared answer for fear of strict punishment. They curtised one more time, then ran along on their way, leaving Bulma alone on her balcony once again.  
  
The little girl watched them leave wistfully, then returned to her room to daydream. She knew that she would never be able to join those children in their innocent games, but nothing was stopping her from pretending that it was so.  
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Bulma stood out on that very same balcony years later, her infamous blue eyes searching the dirty streets for her long-lost playmates. Even if they were still living, she very much doubted that she would be able to recognize them. The young woman sighed and stepped away from the railing to face her handmaiden, who had been waiting for her acknowledgment.  
  
"My lady," Nataliah greeted with a respectful curtsy. "Your mother left for morning mass. You have slept late, I am afraid."  
  
"Late?" Bulma repeated, thinking of the irony of the situation. "How late?"  
  
The other woman smiled nervously. "I am afraid that you missed the entire sermon, it should be nearly over by now--"  
  
Bulma squeezed her eyes shut, hardly believing her luck. The day she had chosen to visit her mother had to be the one day she was late for church. She could picture the scolding that she would no doubt recieve already. "Please notify me when she returns."  
  
Nataliah nodded, then took a closer look at Bulma. "You look exhausted, m'lady. Did you sleep well?"  
  
"Not really," Bulma answered quietly, looking at the familiar surroundings. "I was haunted by my memories all night long."  
  
"I wish that I could remember that much of my childhood," Nataliah mused. "You have a remarkable memory."  
  
Bulma turned away from her maid. The images were starting to plague her again. The reason that Nataliah could not recall most of her childhood was because she had experienced a normal, uneventful one. Bulma massaged her temples and forced herself to reply politely, as was expected of her. "Thank you."  
  
"Is there anything that you require of me before I leave?"  
  
"Yes, you can prepare me a cup of tea, please." Bulma went to the railing again and immersed herself in her memories of the peasant children again. She envied them still. "You may leave."  
  
Nataliah left to make the tea silently. Bulma returned her attention to the street below. Her mother's residence was situated to overlook the busy market, as she had requested so long ago. Lady Briefs despised surprises of any kind, and surprises in the economy was included with that. Bulma had not minded at all. The spicy scent of cinnamon and the exotic aromas of fruit had floated up to enchant her all throughout her childhood, and she had always had a clear view of the merchants' children playing. It was rather pathetic, how she had daydreamed as a child, but it was all she had had to hold on to. All she still had. Most of what Lady Briefs considered to be 'respectable' society, however, would disagree.  
  
They recognized Bulma as the alleged most beautiful woman on Earth, and possibly in the universe. It was what attracted people to she and her family, which her mother adored, and it was what had condemned her to a miserable, love-less life with her husband. Because of this, Bulma considered her beauty more a curse than a gift.  
  
She was sure that as a child, she would have relished the idea of somebody becoming the Queen of her planet. But then again, Yamcha would hardly have been included in that fantasy. Even decked out in heavy jewels and elaborate, expensive clothing, Bulma could not find inner peace. Perhaps if Yamcha had allowed her to become more involved in the diplomatic part of her position, she might have gotten some happiness out of her life, but it had been determined quite early on that Bulma was a trophy wife, forever destined to stand beside Yamcha to be used as a method of making other men and leaders jealous. And to satisfy his own selfish needs.  
  
Bulma shuddered. She couldn't even count how many incidents where Yamcha had violated her both mentally and physically. The Queen of Earth closed her eyes with the effort of pushing the memories back into the dark recesses of her mind.  
  
"You've always loved to watch those heathens wallow in the mud."  
  
So much for Nataliah giving her fair warning. But then again her visitor had always been quite good at sneaking up on people. Bulma would have recognized Lady Briefs' voice in her sleep. She opened her eyes and turned around to acknowledge her elderly mother. She was still dressed in her church clothes-- a demure black gown with diamonds at her ears and throat. As always, her posture was straight and confident, but not overbearing. The very essence of a trained lady. Bulma curtsied to her mother, though she was now considered socially superior. Her title hardly mattered-- her mother would always be the one running the show.  
  
"Those heathens are the people that I represent now," Bulma replied. "You've never understood."  
  
"You are right," Lady Briefs snapped. "And I never will. Nor will I understand why the female monarch of this planet failed to make an appearance at mass this morning. I nearly had to beat off all of the courtiers who were wondering where you were."  
  
"I hope that you hit them hard," Bulma muttered, then raised her voice so that her mother could hear. "I did not sleep well last night and was ill this morning. You wouldn't have wanted me to appear with mucus smearing my makeup, now would you?"  
  
"Watch your sharp tongue, Bulma," Lady Briefs warned dangerously. "I have had to deal with your sarcastic comments for your entire childhood. I thought that we had broken you of that terrible habit."  
  
"It appears not to be so." Bulma set her lips in a thin, hard line to resist the urge to make another bitter reply. "How has your health been as of late?"  
  
"You would not know." Lady Briefs frowned disapprovingly. "I am the only reason that you've become the woman you are now, and what do you do? You run off and ignore me the moment you strike gold. You are a rather ungrateful girl, Bulma."  
  
Bulma graced her mother with a frown of her own. She put her hands on her hips in irritation, a habit that she knew her mother loathed. "If I had had a choice, I would never have put myself in this position and you know it. You created this, and now I'm afraid that you're going to have to deal with it." She brushed past her mother and back inside. "Nataliah, is my tea ready yet?"  
  
Her mother followed her into the kitchen, chirping all the way. "If I hadn't interfered with your life, you would be on the streets with those pathetic, dirty children that you are so fond of watching."  
  
Bulma flinched at the nasty comment, but otherwise displayed no emotion. Her mother had trained her well. She concentrated on busying herself stirring sugar into her blackberry tea.  
  
"Yamcha was not pleased," Lady Briefs continued, signaling for Nataliah to pour her a cup of tea also. "I still cannot understand why you loathe your life so. You have everything that you've ever dreamed of, and yet you still sulk around the palace like a lost soul. You're supposed to be the role model for the women on this planet. You're doing a terrible job, if I do say so myself."  
  
Bulma stared at the polished marble floor. "I have never dreamed of living in cage, Mother. That was always your dream for me."  
  
Lady Briefs snatched her cup of tea from Nataliah and stirred it coolly, uplifting her pinky finger as she handled the spoon. She opened her mouth to speak when the door of the residence slammed open to reveal an angry Yamcha, followed by two bodyguards and a nervous-looking advisor. Bulma's mother smiled, satisfied, and allowed Yamcha to take over the show.   
  
"Where the hell were you?" King Yamcha demanded, storming over to face Bulma, who sipped her tea numbly. "The priest approached me afterwards and informed that even though you had committed a sin by failing to appear in mass, you can still redeem yourself in confession this afternoon! Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for me? Half the fuckig court must have been looking on!"  
  
"There is no need for language, Your Majesty," Lady Briefs scolded smugly.  
  
Yamcha ignored her and waited anxiously for his wife's reply. Bulma took another sip of her tea, then looked up at her husband impatiently.  
  
"I apologize most sincerely," she began softly. "But it could not be helped. I was ill this morning."  
  
"Do not lie to me!" Yamcha said in a low, dangerous voice. "You have no right."  
  
"I am your wife and the Queen of this planet," Bulma replied. "I have the right to do whatever I please."  
  
Yamcha turned away and ran his hands savagely through his hair, trying to rein in his temper. This was the only situation in which Bulma was grateful for her mother's presence. Yamcha would never strike her in front of her domineering mother. When he turned back to face her, his face was red, but his fists remained safely at his sides.  
  
"I am your husband," he explained through gritted teeth. "I demand your respect."  
  
"That hardly qualifies me as your slave." Bulma pushed her tea aside and regarded Yamcha seriously. "I told you that I was ill this morning. You should trust me enough to accept my word."  
  
Yamcha studied Bulma's delicate features. "You don't look sick."  
  
"Of course not," Bulma scoffed. "I have never looked haggard a day in my life, and I do not plan to start."  
  
Yamcha's anxious advisor gestured wildly, and Yamcha sighed in frustration. "I have some important matters to attend to. I shall see you at dinner later tonight." After one last look at his prized wife, he turned and hurried from the room, followed by the advisor and his two bodyguards. Nataliah jumped when the door slammed back onto his hinges.  
  
"I... I suppose that you'll be wanting more tea, my lady?" she asked nervously.   
  
Bulma clasped her hands in her lap, fighting to maintain her composure for the sake of her mother, and forced a tight smile. "Of course."  
  
Lady Briefs smiled smugly, then took another dainty sip of her tea.  
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Bulma, ripe at the tender age of sixteen, gripped the edge of a full-length mirror as her mother tightened her corset mercilessly. She was preparing for Lady Madelyne's dinner party, a choice event with a long list of honored guests. She hadn't wanted to go, but her mother insisted that it was what she considered to be a 'prime opprotunity'.   
  
"There are going to be splendid amounts of eligible young men at this party," she was saying contently, pulling on the ties brutally. Bulma winced in pain. "Prince Yamcha himself is rumored to be making an appearance."  
  
"Mother," Bulma gasped, breathless as the corset was adjusted. "You know that I do not like that arrogant man."  
  
Lady Briefs gave the corset an unnecessarily strong tug. Bulma cried out in pain. "Don't be stupid, girl! Once that old, senile father of his dies, Yamcha will be King, and you'll be his Queen. Tell me that you do not like the thought of that."  
  
Bulma rolled her eyes. "Truly, Mother? The very thought of becoming that man's wife makes me sick to my stomach."  
  
Lady Briefs seized Bulma by the shoulder and whipped her daughter around to face her. She glared at her, then delivered a swift, stinging smack across her face. Bulma recoiled from the blow and didn't dare to move, though she was now looking at her mother out of the side of her left eye. Her hand cupped the side of her face tenderly.  
  
"Don't you realize what is happening to us?" her mother hissed. "When your father died, our social standing remained strong, but our financial situation did not. Without your father here to support us, we have nothing. I-- we cannot survive such a blow and maintain our reputation. Unless you marry, we will be on the streets in a matter of months."  
  
"It is not fair," Bulma whispered brokenly. "Why can't you remarry? There are plenty of noblemen who are interested. Far more than are interested in me."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," Lady Briefs corrected her bitterly. "Those men are foolish and fake. They have no more than a few million dollars behind their names. No, my dear, it shall be you who decides the fate of this family. You are the most desirable girl that I can think of, and the rest of the world knows it. A man would give his left arm to wed, not to mention bed, you." The woman spun her back around and began to finish up her corset.  
  
Bulma seized the mirror again and stared at her reflection hollowly. Her body was slender and petite, as was fashionable, and her skin was ivory-and-cream pale. Her hair fell in pretty ringlets to her waist when it was down all the way (which it rarely was, considering that she was not married). Her high cheekbones, small nose, bow-shaped lips, and rosy complexion were glowing, but her azure blue eyes were by far her best feature. They were almond-shaped and slanted slightly up, as a result of some exotic blood far back in her bloodlines. But even their extreme beauty could not hide the hopeless, defeated expression that they held. They stared back at her, empty and depressing.   
  
"Done," her mother announced, stepping back to get a better look at her handiwork. "Perfect."  
  
Perfect. What her mother had always strived for her to be. Bulma studied her numb expression and then turned away from the mirror so that Lady Briefs could give her approval. The smug, satisfied smile confirmed the quality of her appearance.  
  
"You look stunning," Lady Briefs gushed. "That corset accentuates your figure marvelously, and that dress..." She glanced over to wear the outer garment was hanging, waiting for Bulma to slip into it and turn into her mother's little puppet. "Yamcha will not be able to resist you."  
  
And she had been right. He hadn't.  
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Later that night, Bulma joined her husband for their customary dinner. Surprisingly, Yamcha had not invited any guests to dine with them. Usually he did so to avoid having to make conversation with Bulma, who answered softly and montonously, which always reminded him that she did not love him. Bulma certainly invited no guests, for she had no friends to ask. Bulma took her seat silently and stared down at her meager helpings of fish and steamed vegetables. She longed for something a bit more substantial, but had long since learned that it was not possible. Earth's queen was expected to constantly maintain her impossibly tiny figure, despite her temptations.  
  
Yamcha did not not touch his own plate of hearty food. He instead studied Bulma, clearly thinking of a way to put his thoughts into words. Bulma awaited his announcement, only half-interested. Most likely he had found some other planet to dominate, some other person to belittle. Things never changed. But tonight, she was in for a surprise.  
  
"Do you know of the Saiyans?"   
  
Bulma looked up sharply. Of course she knew of the Saiyans. They were the universe's undeniably dominant race, purging and destroying whoever and whatever got in their way. They were a war-loving, bloodthirsty people that most humans were raised to hate. Earth was one of the few planets that they hadn't conquered, for reasons that nobody could quite fathom. They had very recently broken away from Lord Frieza and his fellow invaders to become an independent empire. The Saiyans were currently under the control of the Queen of the planet, Magdalene. Her husband had been killed by Frieza, so her hot-tempered son, Vejita, was next in line for the throne.   
  
"Of course," she replied, carefully masking her interest. "They live on Vejitasei, am I right?"  
  
"Yes," Yamcha replied. "They are a population of heathens, as your mother would say. They murder each other and anybody else they can get their dirty hands on."  
  
Bulma waited expectantly for the point of the conversation. She could have heard those comments anywhere in the immediate vicinity of the courtiers. It was common knowledge. Yamcha cleared his throat a bit nervously.  
  
"Well, um, yes..." He toyed with his silverware. "Our interactions have been strained as of late, and war is unavoidable. Despite that fact, I am going to attempt to put it off while supplies and soldiers are gathered by proposing a treaty."  
  
"A treaty?" Bulma was shocked that Yamcha hadn't just lost his head and gone blindly after them.  
  
"One of my advisors suggested the idea, actually," Yamcha admitted. Bulma recalled the anxious advisor that followed him into her mother's residence. "I am leaving for Vejitasei in a few weeks, and I plan on taking you with me. I have notified their foreign policy leaders already, and accomadations are being made."  
  
Bulma sat in quiet shock. A treaty with the Saiyans? The very idea of putting the words 'treaty' and 'Saiyans' in the same sentence was prepostorous. Everyone knew that Saiyans were not to be trusted with civilized things such as diplomacy and accomadating another planet's leaders. Bulma's heart raced with fear for herself. Yamcha meant to take her along to impress them, to make a good impression. The woman closed her eyes, struggling to keep her composure, and then looked up to face her husband.  
  
"I am not at all sure that this is a wise idea," she said. "If war is inevitable, then why bother? Our technology is far superior."  
  
"We do not know that for sure," Yamcha said defensively. "It would be to our advantage to go and scope them out, get a better understanding of what we'll be going up against. They outnumber us by the thousands."  
  
"A war with the Saiyan empire would be a major blow to every aspect of our planet," Bulma protested. She normally would not have spoken out against one of her husband's ideas, but this was different. She was the Queen-- she would not sit back and watch Yamcha get them all killed when something could be done. "Queen Magdalene does not seem to be a particularily war-loving woman, but it is her son that you are going to have to contend with. I have heard many stories describing his prowess in war."  
  
"Stories," Yamcha repeated doubtfully. Bulma could tell that his tender pride had been hurt. "Thats what they are-- merely stories. From what I hear, he's all talk and no action."  
  
A servant hurried in to take their plates and replace them with a steaming cup of tea for Bulma and some black coffee for Yamcha. He gripped his cup until his knuckles turned white.  
  
"I will have my war with those bastards," he growled.   
  
"What have they done?" Bulma asked, in attempts to understand her husband's anger.   
  
"Nothing and everything." Yamcha scowled. "They violate our trade laws and airspace policies as if they are laughing at us."  
  
"Perhaps they are," Bulma suggested calmly. "Some of the laws are rather ridiculous. I have said the same thing many times before."  
  
Yamcha shoved his cup of coffee off of the table, then jumped out of his chair and knocked it over also. His face was growing increasingly red with anger, and Bulma knew that she had said the wrong thing.   
  
"How dare you!" Yamcha shouted, the veins in his forehead pulsing. "You stupid, meddling BITCH! I am the king, and whatever I say goes! We will go to war with Vejitasei in matter of months, and there is nothing that anybody can do to stop me!" He stormed over to where she was sitting and raised a menacing hand. "Not even you."  
  
Bulma sat in her chair expectantly, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks as she awaited the crushing blow. It would not have been the first time Yamcha's volatile temper had been taken out on her, and it would likely not be the last. Yamcha stared down at his wife for a few minutes, his left eye twitching, then lowered his fist and used it to shatter her teacup noisily. Bulma opened her eyes timidly, shocked. Yamcha had just spared her the trouble of covering up her bruises in time for mass the next morning, something that he rarely did. Instead of hitting her, Yamcha reached down and caressed her rosy cheek on one hand, studying his wife with a crazed look in his brown eyes. Bulma's stomach turned, but she made no move to stop him. She had long since given up the fight.  
  
"You are so beautiful..." Yamcha's hand moved to her hair, stroking the neat ringlets. "And you are mine."  
  
Bulma dared to turn her head away from him the slightest bit. She could smell liquor on her husband's breath, and instantly understood his odd mood swings. The human body was not capable of containing as much alcohol as Yamcha consumed without severe consequences. She wondered what she had ever done in her life to deserve this fate.  
  
Yamcha gave her one last, long look, then stepped back and exited the room, leaving Bulma alone with her dark thoughts.  
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+ A/N +I am so relieved to finally have this posted! I've been working on it since December, so I hope that its up to par. I will be going on vacation until Sunday evening, so the next chapter probably won't be posted until Monday or Tuesday, but I already have it half-way finished and edited, so you won't have to worry about any delays. I would appreciate any and all feedback, so please leave a review!  
  
Rhapsody~*  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
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	2. Part One: 2

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
...................................................................................Rhapsody~*  
________________________~*Part One*~: Memories  
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Bulma could be found early the next morning strolling through the palace gardens with Nataliah, her longtime handmaiden. The thought of traveling alone with Yamcha to Vejitasei made her feel an aching loneliness deep inside. Soon enough, she could have Yamcha as her only companion, with the exception of Nataliah. Earth's queen deemed it high time that she got to know her maid a little bit better, or suffer the lonely consequences.  
  
Nataliah had been 'given' to her on her seventeenth birthday, as was traditional with most young girls. Having a maid was a sign of wealthiness and fortune, and Lady Briefs had never been one to pinch pennies for the sake of reputation. Bulma had never known much about her until she asked her about her home one time years ago-- she was from the other side of Earth, someplace in central Russia.   
  
Nataliah was about Bulma's age. She had long, straight brown hair that she usually braided away from her face when she was working, and hazel eyes to match. She wasn't what someone would have called pretty, just decent. Bulma's mother saw to it that she looked at least second-class and provided her with plain, dull-colored dresses suitable to her station.   
  
Bulma hadn't ever talked with her maid very much, as some of the other girls did. She even knew a few who had gone so far as to confide their innermost feelings to their maids. But to Bulma, Nataliah had always been the enemy, a willing accomplice of her mother. She had been mistaken, she realized as she spoke quietly with the girl. It had never occured to her that Nataliah had had a life before coming to serve her.  
  
"Are you happy here, with me?" Bulma asked a bit timidly, plucking a magnolia off of its tree and caressing it with her gloved fingers. "It must not be very pleasant to never see your family."  
  
Nataliah hesitated to answer, which Bulma could understand. She must have been afraid that she might insult Bulma with her comments. "I suppose so. My family was quite poor, so I could never have had the kinds of clothes I have now, nor the beautiful shelter." She lifted her face to the palace and smiled. "If my sisters could see me now, they would never believe it."  
  
Bulma frowned, feeling a pang of sympathy for her handmaiden. She had ripped her away from her family and all that she had held dear. Bulma had never known what it was like to have a supportive, loving family, but she imagined that it must have been wonderful. Now Nataliah was somewhat like her-- without friends or anyone to talk to, with the possible exception of the occasional cook or butler.  
  
"I would have never accepted you as my handmaiden if I had known that you had a family," Bulma assured her, letting the magnolia drop to the cobbled ground and get swept away by the warm breeze. "I would have had my mother search for someone who had nothing else to do with their life."  
  
"It was not your choice to make, my lady," Nataliah hurried to correct her. "Your mother mentioned to my father that she was looking for a specific kind of person, a quiet person who would give her no trouble. She claimed that she could find no one else. Do not worry, my home was not one that was full of opprotunity for a girl like me."  
  
Bulma offered a shaky smile, but made no reply. As far as she knew, her mother could have purposely ripped the girl away from her family. She wouldn't have put it past her. They reached the end of the gardens and found themselves in front of the large maze that Yamcha's father had constructed out of rose bushes for the amusement of the courtiers who wished to go for a stroll. Bulma lifted the skirts of her pretty white dress, embroidered with tiny red rosebuds along the waist and bust, and stepped in, savoring the heavy smell of fresh roses. Nataliah lifted her own powder blue skirt and followed her.  
  
"Forgive me for prying," she began timidly. "But I overheard one of King Yamcha's servants say that you were to leave for Vejitasei tomorrow morning. Is this true?"  
  
"Yes," Bulma admitted bitterly. "Yamcha craves some action. He is planning to stage a treaty with the Saiyans to bide time for preparations. I am being made to go with him, so that he can wear me on his arm like an accessory, no doubt."  
  
"My lady, if there is anything--"  
  
"If you don't mind, I mean to take you with me," Bulma informed her, stopping at a fork in the path. She studied each way, then went to the right. "I would very much like to have a companion."  
  
The two young women shared warm smiles, and for the first time in years, Bulma felt as if she had a friend.  
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The Queen and her handmaiden wandered the maze for a half an hour before finally rounding a corner to meet the center. Bulma always loved to come here-- the white stone benches and beautiful rose bushes made a perfect spot for daydreaming. She could remember herself coming here and sitting in the warm sun (but not long enough to tan, of course) and pretending that she was a little peasant girl who was late for her playdate with a friend. Being late had been an integral part of her childhood, so why not daydream about it?  
  
"M'lady," Nataliah warned under her breath, stopping Bulma from rounding the corner to the center of the maze. "I can hear voices!"  
  
Bulma nodded and moved beside Nataliah, where she could hear a little better. She smiled at the thought that even noblewomen weren't entirely unknown to eavesdrop. But as soon as she recognized the voices, she was sorry that she had done so.  
  
"But, King Yamcha, your wife--" Bulma recognized the soft, breathy voice of one of Yamcha's personal assisants, Anyce. She lifted her chin and moved to a thin spot in the rosebushes so that she could see the two.  
  
Yamcha hushed her. "My wife doesn't have to know..."  
  
Nataliah gave a little gasp behind her as Yamcha leaned forward to kiss the young servant. At first, she made no response, but then relaxed and responded to Bulma's husband, sticking her dirty little hands in places that they should never have ventured. Bulma would have been jealous, if she had felt an iota of compassion for Yamcha in her heart, but instead felt sorry for Anyce. She would be banished from the palace in a matter of hours. Yamcha never failed to get rid of the evidence. The Queen stepped back from the rosebush and motioned for Nataliah to follow her. The handmaiden took one last bewildered look, then hurried after her mistress.  
  
"Your Majesty, aren't you going to do something?" she asked anxiously.  
  
"It is pointless now," Bulma told her wearily, brushing a rose petal off of her skirts. "If I had thought that to be a wise action, I would have began interuppting him long ago."  
  
"If you can forgive me saying this, lady," Nataliah began. "You are the most beautiful woman in the universe-- everyone knows that-- so why would the king need to... to commit adultery?"  
  
Bulma smiled tightly at her handmaiden. "No woman will ever completely understand what is going on in the mind of her husband, and I am certainly no exception. But if I had to make a wager-- I'd say that its because he is an ass." The woman snapped open the parasol that she had been carrying violently and hurried past Nataliah, her royal hips swaying.  
  
Nataliah stopped walking and dropped her hands to her sides. She watched Bulma disappear around a corner of the maze with sad, sympathetic eyes. Bulma was a strong woman, there was no doubt about it, but there was only so much abuse that one person could handle. Before she had stormed off, Nataliah had detected the barest trace of tears in the corners of those blue cat eyes. What made it so much worse was the fact that most of the courtiers were well aware of many of the things that Yamcha got himself mixed up in, and thought Bulma to be either incredibly stupid or very greedy for marrying him. They made no efforts to mask their dislike, either.  
  
It was amazing what the human soul could endure.  
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From the start, before he and Bulma were even introduced, Yamcha had been extremely jealous of every man that looked Bulma's way. Everyone was unprepared for what took place when she happened to look back-- with a flirtaceous smile, no less.  
  
Lord Byron was one of the highest-ranking noblemen in the court, but he had not been good enough for Bulma's mother, no matter how hard Bulma pleaded with her. Byron laughed a little too much, enjoyed too many of the pleasures in life, and did not care enough about the royal hierarchy or politics for Lady Briefs. He was a blond-haired, green-eyed devil, a real looker with more charm than any one man deserved, and he certainly knew how to use it. He had been known to the people of Earth as a classic bachelor-- womanizing and living it up, but all of this stopped when he was introduced to Bulma. It was as if he had become a new, better man. Bulma received flowers and tiny little boxes of chocolates (scandalously delicious) nearly daily from him. Lady Briefs almost had a brain aneurism every time they were delivered to the door.  
  
Just before they were about to go public with their serious relationship, and Bulma was struggling to conceal a delicate diamond ring on a very special finger, something unexpected happened. Lord Byron came knocking at Lady Bulma's door one morning, his face twisted into an expression of deep hurt and pain.  
  
"I am being banished from the kingdom," he informed her numbly, fingering an official-looking piece of paper as he spoke. "For disorderly behavior."  
  
Bulma could hardly believe what she was hearing. Disorderly behavior? Byron might have done a few things that the older women did not approve of, but he certainly wasn't stupid enough to do anything that could earn him a serious punishment. "I can't believe that. What does it say?"  
  
"Who cares what it says?" Byron dismissed bittery, crumpling the note and dropping it to the floor. "Both you and I know the reason for this. I am being sent away by ship tonight, bound for Australia. I am also being stripped of my title."  
  
"Stripped of your title?" Bulma's heart raced wildly. What were they going to do? "I don't care what anyone else says. I'm going with you."  
  
Lord Byron stood over her, allowing himself a tiny ray of hope. But then he got a better look at Bulma's wide, beautiful blue eyes and couldn't allow her to do such a thing. "That would be impossible. I could not allow you to do that to yourself. And besides, the reason I am being sent away in the first place is so that you would be left here, alone, for Prince Yamcha to comfort."  
  
A tear slid down Bulma's cheek at the realization that she might never see her fiance again. Byron smiled softly and brushed it away with one hand. Bulma seized it before it dropped to his side and held onto it furiously, her lips set in a determined line.  
  
"I will do whatever's necessary," she said. "I love you."  
  
"I love you also," Byron responded, his eyes darkening with sorrow. "But even if we did decide that you would come with me, I very much doubt that you would be permitted to. It would hurt me to see you poor and starving in some barren land, hindered by the likes of me."  
  
"I would give up the clothes on my back to make a life with you," Bulma promised solemnly. She held up her engagement ring for him to see. "We are supposed to be married this summer, Byron, we cannot be separated. Not by Yamcha, not by anyone else in the world."  
  
Her fiance closed his eyes, fighting back the urge to rip down the doors of the throne room and kill the man who had ordered this done. When he opened them again, Bulma had her ring back on her finger and was cradling it stubbornly, her cerulean eyes wet with unshed tears. She was most definitely an Earth-bound angel, a prize to had, and she had almost been his. Byron took a step back from her doorway, causing her to break down and sob quietly, her thin shoulders shaking.   
  
"Remember this, if nothing else-- I love you more than anyone else in the world, and I will never love another for as long as I live," he promised her, lifting his left hand to show her his own golden band. "Good-bye, Bulma-chan."  
  
Bulma could hardly watch as her first and only love walked away from her for the last time. Despite her desire to be brave and handle this in a calm matter, she could not restrain her emotions for any longer. Slowly, she stepped back inside. Squeezing her eyes shut, with her wet eyelashes tickling her cheeks, she leaned against the door and slid to the ground slowly. Nataliah found her there a half an hour later, sobbing for all she was worth.  
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Surprisingly, word of Lord Byron's banishment did not spread fast. Bulma was extremely grateful-- it would have killed to her to have her mother find out the reason for her seclusion in her room while she was so torn apart. Later that night, at the time Byron was scheduled to leave, the desperate girl donned a hooded cape and slipped out of the palace.  
  
She was headed for the port, where Byron's ship was to leave. She thanked the timing-- if it hadn't been for the cover of darkness, all of the city would have seen her sprinting through the streets with tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. That was hardly a ladylike thing to do.  
  
Byron stood at the dock, awaiting the order to be loaded onto the ship like meaningless cargo. His green eyes held a sorrow that matched her own. They narrowed in alarm when he recognized her slim form.  
  
"Bulma? Lady Bulma?" Lord Byron caught her in his arms, shaking his head in disbelief. "I am so sorry... People are going to say things about the accusation when they realize I am gone-- but don't you believe them."  
  
Bulma pulled down her hood and hushed him. In Byron's eyes, it was the loveliest he had ever seen her. "I know what has happened. Yamcha did this-- and its all my fault." The distressed woman covered her face with one hand and braced herself against Byron with the other.   
  
"Don't blame yourself," Lord Byron whispered, running a fond hand over her hair. "I love you, no matter what happens."  
  
Bulma pulled away from him, her blue eyes wide with terror. "Don't ever say that! If Yamcha ever found out about our engagement, he would have you killed. You are the most wonderful man I've ever known-- and I envy the lucky woman who gets you."  
  
Lord Byron shook his head, his green eyes confused and hurt. "There will be no other woman, Bulma, I've already told you that. Only you." Then the guards moved in on him, and Bulma backed away slowly. "Release me at once! Let me at least say good-bye!"  
  
Bulma pulled her hood back up to hide her tears and lifted a hand in one last farewell. The diamond on her left hand flashed in the moonlight. "Good-bye, my lord."  
  
Lord Byron's features twisted into an expression of irreparable pain as the guards took him away-- an image that would have to last Bulma a lifetime.  
  
She never saw him again.  
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Bulma had retreated to the private royal gardens to be alone. She sat in a white whicker swing beneath her favorite tree-- an old weeping willow that had harbored many a distressed queen in its day. She stared off into space, her blue eyes hollow and as empty as her expression. All she had to show for her pain was a single, dried tear. She was getting better at concealing her emotions every day.   
  
Unbeknowest to Yamcha, who couldn't care less and wouldn't have noticed anyway, she still wore a delicate diamond ring on her finger, the very same one that had been given to her years ago by her only love. She thought of him today for no particular reason. Just like him, her small group of friends had eventually been shipped off one by one also, victims of her 'fortunate' beauty.  
  
The swing rocked gently in the warm spring breeze, causing the drooping willow branches that framed it to rustle pleasantly. Bulma reached out to caress a pretty yellow leaf, and her eyes focused again. Byron existed now only in her memories, and he was never coming back. It was a fact that she would never fully adjust to.  
  
And now she and Yamcha were going to Vejitasei. Though she had heard many bloody tales about the Saiyan's supposed primitive culture, she had also seen many of the paintings done of the landscapes on the planet, and had always admired them greatly. Art had always been one of her passions, but due to her place in society and partly by her gender, she was forbidden from engaging in much more than still life. Traveling to Vejitasei would give her a firsthand look at the dangerously beautiful nature that she found so appealing.   
  
She had been sent word (Yamcha hardly had time to waste on his wife anymore, with all of the plans that he was making) that they were to take off the next morning. The trip would take almost two days. Bulma's heart sank at the thought. Two days in a confined space with Yamcha, who wouldn't have anything to occupy himself with besides bothering her. The Queen of Earth gripped the side of the wicker swing and squeezed her eyes shut tightly, silently willing herself to die. If she tried just hard enough, she thought, she might be able to pretend that she weren't here, that she was off on some distant planet where she could be safe...  
  
She had been sitting there, gripping the swing with all she had, for nearly a half an hour before Nataliah made her way over to interuppt. She stood before her queen for a moment, her hazel eyes sympathetic. Finally she cleared her throat. Bulma did not stir.  
  
"My lady?" she said hesitantly, reaching out a hand to touch her mistress' shoulder.   
  
At the sudden contact, Bulma started and blinked rapidly. She appeared confused, as if she no longer knew where she was. When she saw the old willow tree and her concerned handmaiden, it all came back to her. The pretty face fell, and she sighed.   
  
"What is it?" she asked, testier than she normally might have.  
  
"You've been outside for a while now, lady," Nataliah reminded her. "If you aren't careful, your skin might burn."  
  
A sunburn? Unthinkable! Bulma resisted the urge to stay put and acquire the golden skin tone that she had always longed for, but knew that it would be impossible. Earth's queen must maintain her ivory pallor, or there would be hell to pay. The woman stood slowly, smoothing her white dress down daintily and smiling tightly at her maid.   
  
"We wouldn't want that, now would we?" Bulma brushed past Nataliah and headed for the palace, trailing her fingers over the exquisite flowers as she went. "Have you received any word from my king?"  
  
"Pertaining to what?" Nataliah asked. Yamcha usually had his advisors and assistants keep Bulma posted on what was going on, but most things weren't even worth listening to. Bulma had long since ordered her to not even bother memorizing them.   
  
"What else?" Bulma pointed out impatiently. "Vejitasei. I should think that the possible chance of a war would be important enough to stand out in your mind."  
  
Nataliah swallowed, unsettled by the sudden change in Bulma's temperament. Where was the woman who had just recently been trying to befriend her? "Nothing, lady. Were you expecting news? I could always speak to--"  
  
Bulma shook her head. "If it were important, I would know." She plucked a rose from its bush that matched the ones embroidered on her gown and twisted it between her fingers. Nataliah caught up to her and watched the rose as it spun in Bulma's small hands. "Do you think that the people there will be friendly?"  
  
"I could not say, Your Majesty," Nataliah said sympathetically.   
  
"Please stop calling me that," Bulma insisted absently. "You've been calling me by my title for my entire life. Please stop-- it makes me feel detached."  
  
"I am sorry." Nataliah could not for the life of her get used to not adding the typical 'my lady' or 'Your Highness' on after her sentence.   
  
"No apology is necessary." Bulma released the rose and watched it fall to the ground, scattering bright red petals over the white marble pathway. She seemed hypnotized by the color so like that of blood. "Run along to the palace and tell Yamcha that I will be delayed for dinner."  
  
Nataliah furrowed her eyebrows, puzzled by this statement. "But, you might--"  
  
"I'll try my best to stay in the shade," Bulma assured her.  
  
The handmaiden noted her lady's glazed over, emotionless eyes and hurried to do her bidding.  
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+ A/N +Thank you for all of your nice reviews! I am so glad that somebody likes this thing, LOL! I would have posted this on Sunday, but I was still on vacation. Damned traffic... -_-;; Anyway, I already have half of the next chapter outlined, so I'll have an update by the weekend. Ja ne, and please remember to review!  
  
Rhapsody~*  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
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	3. Part One: 3

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
...................................................................................Rhapsody~*  
________________________~*Part One*~: Memories  
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Bulma packed her things later that night quietly, for once without the assistance of a servant. This time, she felt like helping herself. Dealing with servants meant fake smiles, thanking for compliments, and having to explain how things should done, and Bulma no longer had the patience to deal with that sort of thing.   
  
This would be one of her last chances to be alone for a long while, though she was unsure about Saiyan hospitality. Bulma was in the process of searching through her lingerie drawer when something cool and hard met her hand. She closed her fingers around the mystery object and pulled it from its lace-and-leather hiding spot.  
  
The Queen found herself staring down at a photograph of herself from years ago, smiling brilliantly beside another girl in a scandalously scarlet dress and a little bit too much makeup. Maylene, the other girl in the picture, had been her only friend for a long while. As Bulma studied the old picture, her mind drifted back to the last time she had packed her own belongings-- the day before she had moved into the palace.  
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Maylene, the girl that Bulma had once called her best friend, sat on her pink bed, her painted lips twisted into a pout. Her flashy green eyes followed Bulma's every movement with obvious disdain.  
  
"Your mother would have a nosebleed if she knew that I was here," she speculated teasingly. "I've never thought that social brunches could be such useful distractions."  
  
"Please stop trying to make everything sound like its okay," Bulma pleaded. "I'm being shipped off like a slave, Maylene, and even you cannot sugarcoat that."  
  
Maylene's overplucked (by her mother's standards, anyway) brows snapped together. "Damn, B-chan! You were always so spunky and stubborn. How can you give in now? Sure, Yamcha's an ass, but who needs to think about him? You'll be so busy that you'll never see each other, and you can amuse yourself by ruling the planet and wallowing in riches all day long."  
  
"You don't understand," Bulma informed her friend darkly. "He's already shipped off Byron, practically driven his own father to a heart attack in order to get the throne, and forced me to marry him! What's going to stop him from severing all of my friendships, abusing me, or forcing me to bear his children?! Make me an excuse for that." She attempted to hide her tears by turning away and wrapping up her porcelain jewelry box.   
  
"Ouch." Maylene sighed. "I'm only trying to make you feel better. I'm sorry."  
  
"No," Bulma said quietly. "You did nothing wrong. I am the one at fault-- I snapped at you." She turned to face her friend with tears running down her cheeks. "Its just that..." She broke into broken sobs. "I am so afraid."  
  
Maylene embraced her friend and allowed her to cry on her shoulder. "I know, dear. but don't worry-- I'll make it into that palace to visit you even if I have to beat down the door."  
  
Bulma, being emotionally distraught, had believed her. But soon after Maylene's first visit, Yamcha became insanely jealous and forbade visitors, with the exception of his partner-in-crime, her mother.  
  
Bulma never saw her best friend again.  
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The woman stuffed in the last gown and left her open baggage laying on the bed. The red sun was setting on the horizon, casting the large bedroom in a warm glow. The sight saddened her. For all she knew, this could be her last sunset on Earth. Forever. While they were on the Saiyans' planet, anything could happen. But that wasn't all that was saddening her.  
  
Bulma stode out onto the balcony and rested her chin in her hands, bathing in the dim sunlight. The feeling of warmness on her transluscent skin was an alien sensation; but it was one that she found she enjoyed. She closed her infamous blue eyes and allowed herself to relax for a moment.   
  
When she finally opened her eyes, the sun had disappeared, giving way to the silver moon and pale moonlight. Instead of bathing in the warmth of the sun, the frigid spring air caused tiny goosebumps to rise on her skin. She stared for a moment, then looked up to the heavens.  
  
Her eyes twinkled like the stars that were beginning to shine in the night. There wasn't anything more beautiful than a clear sky full of stars, in her opinion. She did not know the names of any of them, besides the North Star, but it hardly mattered to her. Such beauty hardly needed a name.   
  
As she stood watching the stars, yet another memory came to the surface of her mind, a bittersweet memory that she had been keeping close to her heart for years.  
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It was the night that Bulma had discovered that she was to move in with Yamcha at the palace, and she was all alone. The streets below her balcony were still and empty, much like the rest of the world this late in the night. Bulma sat alone on her balcony railing in her nightgown, gazing up at the stars, much like she was doing in present day.   
  
The doors to the balcony opened quietly behind her. The girl didn't even flinch. The clicking of high heels could be heard as the intruder crossed the balcony.   
  
"Greetings, Lady Briefs."  
  
Bulma turned and smiled as Maylene came to sit beside her on the railing-- a most unladylike thing to do. They sat quietly, watching the stars for a few moments, then Maylene spoke. Her normally loud and bold voice was soft and comforting, a sure sign that something was wrong.  
  
"You know, Bulma, your situation is not as bad as you might be thinking." The red-haired girl smiled warmly. "I know a half a million girls who would burn their best dress to be in your position."  
  
"You called me Lady Briefs." Bulma's tone was emotionless. "Please don't. Lady Briefs is my mother. I'm just Bulma." She moved to get off the railing, but Maylene stopped her.  
  
"You aren't and never will be 'just Bulma'," she said sternly. "Prince Yamcha has chosen you, out of every girl in the Universe, to be his princess, and that alone makes you more than 'just Bulma'. You're the smartest, prettiest, and probably the most spirited girl I know, and you come from a good family. You never give up, and that makes you more than 'just Bulma'."  
  
The other girl regarded her friend fondly, then spoke in a soft, shaky voice that chilled Maylene straight down to her sinful, unladylike bones. "You're wrong. I already have given up." Tears welled in her eyes, and she covered her face as hot tears escaped her eyes and streamed down her face like rainwater.   
  
Maylene embraced her friend, getting teary-eyed herself. "Don't lose hope, B-chan, and for Kami's sake, don't let anyone break you, ever." When Bulma's sobs continued, she sighed and pressed on firmly, as if she trying to convince herself that her words were true. "Think of all the wonderful things that you can accomplish."  
  
"Wonderful things?" Bulma repeated, pulling away to look at Maylene incredulously through her tears. "Yamcha will be my husband, and its common knowledge what a tyrant he is."  
  
Maylene nodded. "That may be true, but there is nothing that he's wanted more in his life than you. He'll listen, at least to some things."  
  
Bulma climbed back onto the balcony railing, her teary eyes returning to the stars. Maylene followed her example. "Its strange to think that this is one of the last nights that I remain a virgin," Bulma admitted softly. At Maylene's odd look, she shook her head. "For Kami's sake, this man isn't even who I want to spend my life with. I don't even want to spend five minutes of my life with him."  
  
Maylene frowned. "Don't talk like that."  
  
"I might as well." Bulma shrugged. "We both know its true."  
  
There was a long silence. When Maylene broke it, her voice was thick with tears. "Dammit Bulma-- our lives weren't supposed to end up this way! Remember when your father was still alive, and we used to talk about traveling around to all of those exotic places?" She chuckled. "Well, I suppose that you'll be doing that while I'm living at home with my parents, waiting for a 'perfect suitor'. Who the hell would want an unladylike chick like me, anyhow?" She reached into the folds of her low-cut black dress and lit a cigarette that she had most likely stolen from her father. She blew rings of punget smoke out into the night air, watching them fade away slowly.  
  
"Its hardly traveling," Bulma corrected her. "Diplomacy consumes your entire stay, and sharing it with Yamcha is hardly enjoyable. No Maylene, I envy you."  
  
Maylene sighed, tossed her cigarette down into the empty streets, and shifted closer to her friend, struggling to think of what she could say. Bulma just smiled, trying to express her appreciation. Maylene was the only real friend she had ever known, and now she was going to lose her.  
  
"Why was I cursed with this face?" Bulma asked helplessly, regarding her friend seriously. "What have I ever done to deserve all of this?"  
  
Maylene embraced her vulnerable companion and looked to the stars. "Your beauty is not a curse, dear. Its a gift. You have the power to control an entire population by merely blinking. I would die for that kind of power."  
  
"You would die to be talked about, humiliated, stalked, and theorized about? You, Maylene, would die to marry a man whom you do not love, and who does not love you back?"  
  
"Yamcha does love you," Maylene protested. "No man could love you like he does."  
  
Bulma snorted, but her eyes were sad. "He loves a mask. He cares nothing for what lies behind it." The hopeless young woman slid off the railing and turned back to her friend. Maylene's comment had made her think of Byron, the only man that had bothered to look farther than her face. "Come. Your family will be worried."  
  
Maylene didn't have to look at her hard blue eyes to know what she was thinking. As soon as she came down from the railing she gave her friend a big hug. They were both teary-eyed. "You are not and never will be alone, Bulma-- I swear it. Not for as long as I live."  
  
Bulma nodded, and for a minute, she believed her.  
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Bulma gazed up at the same stars that she had those years ago and wondered what had become of her courageous friend Maylene. She could have easily acquired the information, but now that she thought of Yamcha's outrageous jealousy, she wasn't sure that she was ready for the answer. After all, she hadn't seen her in court or at a single ball. Ever.  
  
A comet shot across the sky, and Bulma's eager eyes followed its plight. She imagined where it would land, and her heart sank when she realized that it would most likely burn up in the atmosphere. Not a pretty picture, especially since she was about to blast off to that same altitude the next day. And with Yamcha, no less. She shuddered involuntarily, then glanced around to make sure that nobody was around. Namely her husband. Then she moved to the railing, lifted her skirts, and climbed up to sit just as she had with Maylene.  
  
The height from this particular balcony was at least two hundred feet off of the ground. A marble fountain, donated by the people of Italy, lay directly below, guarding a crystal-clear pond that the royal gardeners had surrounded with purple irises. Bulma stared down at the dizzying height, her own head spinning.  
  
If she just let go, it would all be over. The fall would be scary, but she wouldn't even be able to feel herself hit the ground. If she let go, she could be with her father at last. If Bulma jumped, she would never have to worry about Yamcha touching her ever again.   
  
The Queen's fingers twitched as she gripped the railing. Before she realized what she was doing, Bulma had slid partway down the railing so that she was standing on the ledge in front of it, so close to falling...   
  
Her seductive thoughts of suicide were broken when one of the doors in the bedroom behind her slammed shut. Bulma started and nearly tumbled to her death right then and there before she could regain her balance. She swallowed and then climbed back over the railing as quickly as her heeled shoes and long dress would allow.  
  
When her feet were securely back on the balcony, she closed her eyes shut tight. She had contemplated suicide many times before, but something had always stopped her. For the life of her, she could never understand just what it was, considering that she had nothing left. She had not time to follow through with her thoughts, because just then the balcony doors opened and her husband emerged from the bedroom, his face haggard from a long day's work. Bulma thought of the pretty maid he had been dallying with earlier and wrapped her arms around herself tightly. Yamcha didn't even notice.  
  
"Why the hell did you pack your own things?" he asked shortly, gesturing to the open suitcase that still layed on their bed. "That is what I pay to have servants do."  
  
"I wanted to be alone," Bulma replied monotonously, looking the other way.   
  
"Alone?" Yamcha scoffed. "That is the stupidest thing that I've heard all day."  
  
The Queen of Earth hid her clenched fists in the folds of her skirts and felt yet another little part of herself die away. "What time does the ship depart tomorrow morning?"  
  
"Nine o' clock." Yamcha raised an eyebrow, not used to her responding to his comments so readily. "Why are you so talkative today?"  
  
"I was merely wondering," Bulma said, turning around to go back into the palace.  
  
"Where do you think you're going?" Yamcha demanded, crossing his arms. "I was not through talking to you yet!"  
  
Bulma stopped in her tracks. The last thing that she needed was an ugly bruise to greet the Saiyans with. When she turned around to face Yamcha, he was wearing a triumphant smile. "Yes?"  
  
"This trip is very important to me, so I want to be sure that nothing goes wrong," Yamcha began, sizing her up with his brown eyes critically. "I'll want to double check the things that you have packed and add a few things that I've had tailored for you. While we are on Vejitasei, we must respect their customs and dress somewhat like they do. It would be insulting not to show some empathy for their primitive culture, don't you think?"  
  
Bulma merely stared back at him, disgusted with herself for allowing her life to spin so far out of control.  
  
"The Saiyans dress terribly, like common street trash," Yamcha continued on, oblivious to Bulma's blank expression. "Their clothing resembles something like what the Greeks on our own planet wear. Its like going back a few centuries, for Kami's sake." He shook his head at the gall of these 'primitive' people. "But don't fret, you'll be fabulous."  
  
"Fabulous?" Bulma repeated blandly, still trying to wrap her mind around the idea of Yamcha picking out her wardrobe.  
  
"Of course, fabulous." Yamcha reached over and caressed a loose strand of her hair, his brown eyes glowing with longing. "You are perfect for this, dear. You are so beautiful, they won't be able to refuse my offers. They'll be sitting ducks, hindered by their own foolish desires. They'll be pining away for what they can never have."  
  
Bulma dared to pull away-- it was more than she had done in years. "Is that how you want to present me? As a-- a... trophy?"  
  
Yamcha's blood boiled. "I will 'present' you however the fuck I want to." Rather than strike out at her, as he normally would have done, he shot her a dirty look and stormed back into the bedroom.  
  
Bulma would have thanked Kami for his mercy, if she had not known that he was merely trying to maintain her coveted image of perfection. A bruise would not fare well with the 'sitting ducks' commonly known as the Saiyans.  
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When Bulma went back into the bedroom a short while later, she found herself standing in the middle of a disarray. Her carefully folded clothes were strewn all over the floor, the bed, and some of her more demure lingerie hung on the lamps, as if Yamcha had been throwing things over his shoulder carelessly. A newly packed suitcase rested on the bed, bulging with its contents.  
  
Bulma weaved her way through the mess, glancing around for her missing husband, then opened the suitcase. She was almost afraid of what she would discover inside.  
  
The first layer consisted of overcoats and the like, all in deep, dark colors that she suspected were on the royal insignia of Vejitasei. Underneath the warmer clothing she found her primary outfits-- wrap-like things that secured at one and occasionally also the second shoulder and were nearly transparent. Yamcha had been correct, they resembled Greek clothing, but she doubted that she would have found Athena strutting around in a transparent toga and no bra, even in the height of her day. A few of her normal, Earth-styled dresses remained, however. She was grateful for at least that. Bulma then dug into the third layer and scowled at what she found. Instead of the comfortable, pastel-colored lingerie that she preferred, her suitcase was loaded with black, red, and gold undergarments and nighties consisting of lace, leather, and any other material Yamcha could have conjured a wet dream about.  
  
Glancing around quickly to make sure that Yamcha was nowhere in sight, Bulma began sifting through the lingerie and taking out the things that she had no desire to don for anybody, most especially Yamcha. She was in the process of replacing the discarded clothing with some choices of her own when somebody cleared their throat from behind her. She whirled around and was met with a smack so forceful that it nearly knocked her off of her feet.  
  
"How dare you defy me!" Yamcha shouted, seizing her shoulders and shaking her violently. "You must do what is necessary to please me! Do you hear? Me!"  
  
"I-- I don't have to do anything!" Bulma protested frantically, struggling to escape her husband's violent grip. "I am your wife, I--"  
  
"And I am your husband!" Yamcha ranted. His grip was painful, but skillfully applied to save her ugly bruises that would mar her appearance. "You have a responsibility to obey me!"  
  
Bulma shook her head, fighting with all of the strength her small body possessed, but it was no use. Yamcha overpowered her, and she found herself pressed up against the wall of their bedroom, looking up into Yamcha's angry eyes through her own teary ones. His smug smirk made her sick to her stomach.  
  
"You see?" he hissed coolly. "I always win, and I always will."  
  
After one last shake, he released her and began putting his lingerie choices back into her suitcase. Bulma remained where she was, fighting off her shameful tears. If Yamcha saw her crying, there was no telling what he would do. If she was lucky, he would merely hit her in a place where nobody could see. If she wasn't, well... Her blue eyes roved over to the bed where she had been violated too many times to count, and she shuddered.  
  
Yamcha closed her suitcase, dusted himself off, and then turned back to her. "You are so beautiful, darling. I know that you will do what is right."  
  
Bulma turned her face away as Yamcha reached over to stroke her cheek. A single tear streamed down over her high cheekbones, still a smart red from Yamcha's slap. Her husband seemed aroused at the sight of her pain, and grinned.  
  
"Tonight, I will remind you of your place in the scheme of things."  
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+ A/N +In the next chapter, they're off to Vejitasei! What will become of Bulma? Will she survive the trip through space with Yamcha unscathed? Not as long as I'm in charge of this fanfiction! ^_____^ I want to thank everyone for their lovely reviews and comments, once again. Someone (sorry, I can't recall exactly who it was...) asked if I had named Bulma's previous lover, Lord Byron, after the poet. The answer is yes. ^_~ It seemed fitting. I regret to inform you all that I do not have a mailing list, due to lack of time. I am just too busy to do that every time I update. I usually go online really fast, post the damned thing, and then get off and get on with my life. Perhaps later on, when my life is better controlled and a lot less hectic, I'll start one up. Anyway, I hope that you found this update to be speedy enough-- I hate to keep people waiting. Rather than blabber on for any longer, I'll leave you with one last, thought-provoking suggestion: Please remember to REVIEW! Ja ne!  
  
Rhapsody~*  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
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	4. Part One: 4

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The next morning, at precisely six o' clock, Bulma stood before their great ship at the loading docks. The ship was truly a modern marvel. Her father had drawn up the plans for the machine years ago, while he had been on his spacecraft-design kick. Bulma could remember sitting beside him, peering over his shoulder as he sketched the long, smooth lines that would eventually make up the greatest piece of traveling equipment that Earth had ever seen. It was a shame that he had never lived to see it put together.  
  
Nataliah examined the ship from beside her queen with wide eyes. It was a rare occasion for her to be admitted to the loading docks, especially when one of Yamcha's royal ships were present. As it was, the docks had been cleared of all traffic, to reduce the risk of assasination. Bulma thought that Yamcha was wise to worry.  
  
Yamcha was currently standing a short distance away, barking orders at whoever would listen. The ship was not clean enough, the captain's credentials weren't nearly good enough to allow him to take off properly, and where the hell was their baggage? He had rarely said a word to Bulma all morning because of it, so she really didn't mind.  
  
She had been expecting Lady Briefs to ambush her on the way to the ship earlier in the morning with a million orders and warnings to relate, but she had been surprised when her mother hadn't so much as sent a note. So far. It wasn't that Bulma wanted her mother to come see her off, it was more like she was suspicious of why she hadn't. Ever since she had married Yamcha, he and Lady Briefs had been whispering behind her back. As far as she knew, they had plans to do away with her once and for all.   
  
"Have you received word from my mother?" Bulma asked Nataliah quietly.  
  
The handmaiden tore her eyes away from the ship with some difficulty and shook her head. "No, my la-- Bulma. I have not heard from her all week."  
  
"That's strange," Bulma commented, scanning the area with narrowed eyes. "Its not like her to miss an opprotunity like this."  
  
Then, as if on cue, Lady Briefs emerged from the palace, flocked by a nervous-looking maid and another one of the court's ladies. She had spoken with the other woman a few times, but she could not recall her name. It hardly mattered-- the woman wisely stayed back as Lady Briefs approached.  
  
Bulma felt her lean muscles tense up as her mother came closer. Most girls felt happiness when they were in the presence of their mothers, but not Bulma. All that Bulma felt was fear.  
  
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In all of Bulma's memory, she could recall only one incident where her mother had voluntarily extended what the creative-minded could call maternal love. Pathetic, but one could not miss what they had never had.  
  
They had been sitting in Bulma's room one night when Bulma was about twelve years old, before the crackling fire that her father's manservant had concocted, and Lady Briefs had been brushing out Bulma's hair. She did this, two hundred and fifty strokes total, every night, convinced that it would result in luxurious, shining locks. She had been right, of course. Bulma's hair was the envy of every girl in town, to be sure.  
  
"Don't worry, dear," her mother had said, her voice uncharacteristically light. "Soon enough you'll be married to an important noblemen and I'll be out of your hair." She tugged a curl teasingly. "Quite literally, as a matter of fact."  
  
Bulma, inquisitive for her young age, frowned. "Mother-- why must I marry a man that I do not love? Lady Rosaline said that love is the essence of life, and that there isn't nearly as much in the world as there should be. Is that true?"  
  
"Its rubbish," Lady Briefs scoffed. "Love spelled backwards is evil misspelled. Your marriage is the essence of your life. Lady Rosaline is your governess, not your mother."  
  
"I-- I am sorry, m'lady," Bulma responded meekly. "I shall not speak unless prompted."  
  
Lady Briefs stopped her brushing and smiled warmly. The expression looked strange on her face. "That is hardly necessary, child. Don't look so gloomy! Come here and embrace your mother."  
  
Bulma, eager for any sort of affection she could get, jumped into her mother's arms, grinning with all her might. "I love you, Mother..."  
  
The memory was a sweet one, but as with most in Bulma's life, was vanquished by another one. The next morning, Bulma was shipped off to finishing school without so much as a farewell.  
  
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Lady Briefs stopped in front of her, looking her daughter up and down critically. She hadn't changed much over the years. The lines around her eyes and between her brows had deepened slightly, and she seemed skinnier than she used to be, but besides that, makeup and skillful tailoring hid all signs of aging. Even her perfect hair was dyed, without any evidence of a gray hair. Bulma envied her mother's ability to always appear as beautiful as she could possibly be.   
  
"What is that awful thing that you're wearing?"  
  
Bulma looked down at her dress. It was a traveling outfit-- designed two-parts comfort and one-part style, a combination that her mother would have never allowed. The soft blue material of the dress was unpatterned and unembroidered, and the cut was very basic. The neckline was high enough to cover the tops of her breasts, also a change, and her corset wasn't nearly as tight as it normally would have been. She did not look bad, just comfortable. Her extraordinary beauty outshone the outfit, as usual, so it hardly mattered to everyone else but her mother.  
  
"Our trip will last three days, Mother," Bulma reminded her, fingering the soft material. "I would prefer to be comfortable while I can. Don't worry, nobody important will see me."  
  
"That is hardly the point." Lady Briefs cringed, as if the dress were painful to look at. Bulma seethed-- a first class girl would be lucky to have a dress of this quality, even if the cut wasn't as provocative as it could have been. "I certainly hope that King Yamcha selected your arrival outfit, if this is what we can learn to expect from you."  
  
"He did not even notice." Bulma turned to Nataliah. "Please go and find out when we will be leaving."  
  
Lady Briefs watched the handmaiden scurry off, then put her hands on her hips angrily. "Yamcha told me about what you did last night. I do not approve!"  
  
Bulma was hardly surprised. It was just like Yamcha to deal with his anger in such an immature way. She was sure, however, that he 'accidently' left out the remainder of the previous night, the part where he had violently raped her, taking all of the pleasure for himself. Rather than burst out with this little piece of information, she took the high route and maintained her composure.  
  
"This might be the last time you ever lay eyes on me," Bulma began. "And all you're going to do is critique me?"  
  
Lady Briefs studied her daughter, her stone face emotionless. "I am merely trying to improve you, Bulma. A queen must always strive for perfection."  
  
Bulma sighed, then began to turn and head towards the ship. No good-byes would be spoken between mother and daughter this trip. Then her mother reached out a hand to stop her. When Bulma turned back around, ready to dismiss the woman coldly, she found herself looking into her mother's sharp blue eyes, not unlike her own.  
  
"How dare you turn your back to me!" Lady Briefs snarled, gripping Bulma's wrist with all her might. "I've told you once, and I will tell you again-- you would be nothing if it weren't for me! Do you hear me, girl? Nothing! Just because you have a pretty face does not mean that you can hypnotize everybody."  
  
Bulma searched the woman's face for any sign of motherly compassion. This woman spoke to her like she was nothing but her little slave, the vessel through which she could acheive her own selfish dreams. If this woman before her were a true mother, she would be whispering her good-byes as she embraced her daughter, rather than telling her how worthless she was. She snatched her white hand back, cradling it by her side, then beckoned to Nataliah.  
  
  
  
"We will be getting on the ship now, Nataliah." Her blue eyes remained locked her mother's stricken face. "Good-bye, Lady Briefs."  
  
She turned on her heel and hurried closer to the ship, ignoring Nataliah's concerned looks as she went. She felt as if she were walking away from a piece of her childhood-- a painful one, to be sure, but a piece of it nonetheless. She supposed that she had always known that there was no hope for her mother, but she had always hung on to a foolish dream of domestic happiness... But she had been stupid, she decided numbly. People could not be trusted. Not by her, not by anyone else.  
  
Yamcha noticed Lady Briefs storm angrily away from the loading docks and back into the palace. He hurried over to Bulma, his dark brows drawn together in ignorant accusation.  
  
"What the hell did you say to her?" he demanded of his wife. "She is your mother, Bulma, you must learn to respect her wishes."  
  
"I said nothing," Bulma said, her gaze locked on the ship in front of her. "She came to make me feel guilty about last night."  
  
"As well she should!" Yamcha exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "Now stop standing around-- get your ass on the ship, its time for our departure!"  
  
Bulma glared at his back as he walked away, then turned to Nataliah with a fake smile on her face. "Well, here we go."  
  
Nataliah did her best to smile back. "Yes. Are you frightened?"  
  
Her mistress' eyes darkened. "I am more afraid of the trip to come than our destination."  
  
Nataliah eyed Yamcha, waiting impatiently for them on the ramp, and found that she understood perfectly.  
  
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Bulma and Yamcha's chambers on the ship were quite luxurious, and far more comfortable than Bulma had imagined. Her father had done his job well. But no matter how nice the rooms were, how smoothly the ship rode, it could not chase away the foreboding feelings that were beginning to stir within Bulma as they got closer to their destination. She could not explain why she was feeling the way she was, but she did know that if she voiced her concerns, nobody would listen. So she remained silent, and contented herself with the fact that Yamcha was, for the most part, occupied during the trip.  
  
The first night was uneventful. They had been shown around the ship and instructed on emergency procedures and the like. Bulma's heart flip-flopped as she imagined the million ways that one could be killed out in space. That is, until she found herself in a large, circular meeting room that she had not been shown to before.  
  
The ceiling, as well as an entire wall, consisted of windows. All around them, stars and strange, faraway planets twinkled. Bulma's heart leaped into her throat at the beautiful sight. She immediately took a seat the head of the long table in the center of the room and commenced stargazing.  
  
It was there that Yamcha found her on the second night of the trip, her head resting on her outstretched arms that stretched over the long table. He could have been considerate and let her catch up on valuable sleep, but this never once crossed his mind.   
  
Bulma lifted cloudy blue eyes, causing him to lose his breath for a moment. No matter how many times he shared a bed with her, studied her from across the dinner table, he could never get fully accustomed to her strange beauty. It was quite disturbing, the power that she possessed in those big blue cat-eyes.  
  
"Yamcha?" Her eyes struggled to focus tiredly. "Hmmm?"  
  
He grinned and waved to her. "I want to talk with you about our arrival tomorrow afternoon."  
  
Bulma lifted herself off of the table, suddenly wide awake. The gleam in Yamcha's eyes meant that he had something in store for her, and she was willing to bet that she would not like whatever it was.  
  
"The key goal of our entrance is to impress and intimidate," her husband explained, reaching out to run a finger through a strand of her hair. "You'd best behave yourself, darling-- the Saiyan women are not very attractive, so I want you to be the one that stands out in their simple, unevolved minds. When we arrive, I'll be sure to have you dressed in the most stunning dress you own, and I expect you to perform."  
  
Bulma was silent for a moment, trying to absorb this. Then she frowned. "If your only purpose for a wife is to use her as a method of negotiation, then you'd better find another one."  
  
Yamcha chuckled smugly. "I admire your spirit, though it will get you nowhere." He leaned forward to kiss her, then pulled away and left the room. He was off to congratulate himself on dominating her once again, no doubt.  
  
The sleepy Queen sighed and shifted around in her chair so that she was facing the windows. The stars beckoned to her, like a million miniature, glowing heavens awaiting her arrival. Bulma stood and slowly paced to the window, reaching a hand out in front of her, as if she were preventing herself from walking straight through.   
  
When her hand met cool glass, she closed her eyes and imagined that she was dead, floating among the stars, peaceful at last. The stars would welcome her, she was sure of it, and her father would be there waiting for her...  
  
She was jolted back to reality when the ship lurched. It wasn't the first time-- apparently the journey to Vejitasei took them right on the outskirts of an astroid field. Bulma shook her head to clear her thoughts, then opened her eyes again. The stars were still there, but they seemed so far away now. What had she been thinking? She was bound to Earth by Yamcha; as long as he lived, there was no escape.  
  
The ship passed through another tricky spot. Bulma gripped the panes of the window and did her best to hold down her small lunch. When the ship steadied itself again, she sighed and turned away from the window. She nearly fell over in surprise when she came face-to-face with Nataliah.  
  
"Kami!" she exclaimed, taking a few steps back. "You frightened me. I thought that you were..."  
  
Nataliah smiled sympathetically, her hazel eyes sorrowful. "I... overheard you and Yamcha quarreling the night before we left, and--"  
  
Bulma shook her head. "What you overheard was hardly quarreling." She wrapped her arms around herself and smiled weakly. "I still have bruises on my thighs. What are you doing here?"  
  
The other girl looked to the windows curiously. "I suppose that I wanted to see what was causing you to spend all of your time here."  
  
"Its better than spending my time with Yamcha."  
  
"I have been talking to some of the other servants on the ship," Nataliah began, tearing her eyes away from the windows. "They have traveled to Vejitasei before."  
  
Bulma took a seat and beckoned for Nataliah to do the same excitedly. "Really? This is fantastic! What did you hear?"  
  
The handmaiden, still a bit uncomfortable being so casual with her royal mistress, did her bidding and clasped her hands together tensely. Bulma, in her anxiousness, did not seem to notice. "They say that it is mostly a desert planet, with red sand and a hot sun." Bulma's face fell. Nataliah hurried to comfort her. "But they have several beautiful, perfectly turquoise oceans and oasis's that they have turned into retreats for the first-classed. The palace and capital city are built right on the coast of one of them, and there are jagged rocky mountains nearby. The servants say that they would make a perfect painting, if you so wished to create one."   
  
"How wonderful," Bulma breathed, already imagining dangerously beautiful mountains, churning blue waters, and the cries of seagulls overhead.  
  
"The palace is surrounded by some of the galaxy's most beautiful gardens, courtesy of their queen. They have magnolia trees, marble fountains, and every kind of exotic flower you can imagine," Nataliah continued. She was bathing in her lady's undivided attention, and absolutely loving it. "The people favor war and are no doubt bloodthirsty, but they do not always let that govern their lives. Many of them are even approaching friendly."  
  
"I am not surprised," Bulma said bitterly. "Yamcha has a tendency to discriminate."  
  
Nataliah knew this, but did not acknowledge it. "The Saiyans are extremely strong and dedicated to their training-- even the women. They have tanned skin and dark eyes, with rare exceptions. The queen herself is one; she has green eyes, they say. Yamcha was correct about their clothing. Men wear their armor and women wear wraps similar to yours, though not as... revealing."  
  
This also did not surprise Bulma. She sighed contentedly. "I am so glad that you've researched this, Nataliah. I wonder what the palace will be like? Do you suppose that they have the severed heads of their enemies mounted on their walls, like the people back home say?"  
  
This earned her an amused giggle. "I would guess not, m'lady."  
  
"Do you think that we will be missed?" Bulma asked quietly, tracing circles on the table with one finger. "I mean, as rulers."  
  
Nataliah hesitated to answer. "They will miss the order that you two keep on the planet, I am sure."  
  
Bulma half-smiled. "I thought as much." Earth's Queen glanced over her shoulder at the windows. "What I would give to be able to say that my people respected me..."  
  
"I think that they respect you, but not your husband," Nataliah said. "And a woman's reputation is based almost solely on her husband's, therefore..." She trailed off, but Bulma already knew what she meant.  
  
"You are who you marry," she commented, summing Nataliah's explanation up perfectly. "I suppose that the Saiyans' philosophy will be much the same."  
  
"Let us hope not, my lady," Nataliah replied with a frown. "I wish that I could finally see you happy."  
  
Bulma smiled in reply, but inside, she very much doubted that Nataliah would ever get her wish.  
  
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The beginning of her unhappiness seemed to have started when her father, Lord Briefs, passed away when she had been about eleven and a half years old. One morning, while engaged in his beloved work as an inventor, he had died of a severe and unexpected heart attack. At the age of thirty-six, his death was premature.  
  
Lady Briefs took his death hard, but not nearly as much so as young Bulma. With her father gone, she now hadn't a single friend in the world. And with her father dead, there was no one to protect her from her mother's harsh word. She would be completely at the woman's mercy.  
  
The funeral took place in the first-classed elite cemetary, though her father was to be cremated instead of buried. It was the tradition that counted, Bulma supposed. It was a brisk fall afternoon, and the leaves had just changed color. It was a beautiful day. Bulma remembered hating Kami for allowing it to be so. If she was so unhappy, then why shouldn't the weather reflect her feelings?  
  
Her mother had made an occasion even out of this depressing event. She had spent hours selecting their outfits and hairstyles. She herself was dressed in a black velvet gown that buttoned all of the way up to her neck, as was customary on a mourning widow, and had dressed Bulma in a breezy silk gown that made her look ghostly pale and sickly. Her father had always hated the damned thing. He had only allowed Lady Briefs to have it made just in case an acquaintance passed away. He had probably never imagined that she would end up wearing it to his own funeral.  
  
There was an exceptionally impressive turnout. Nearly the entire court attended, much to her mother's sadistic pleasure. Bulma received many comforting words, but they meant nothing. She moved around in the shadow of her mother, and didn't say a word the entire time, nor for the rest of the day.  
  
The priest made a stiff, over-rehearsed speech about Lord Briefs' accomplishments in life and the ones he would now be making in the afterlife, and Lady Briefs said a few words about how she and her daughter would overcome this with all expected dignity and grace, don't worry about a thing.  
  
Then a torch was offered to Lady Briefs. Bulma was confused at first-- wasn't the priest the one who was supposed to light up the coffin? But no, her mother was the one who approached the wooden box, touched the torch to the smooth wood, and then stepped back as the thing roared up in flames. Bulma later overheard her mother tell her handmaiden that she had requested the privledge-- she had wanted to be the one to send her father to hell for spoiling their daughter too much.  
  
  
  
Bulma remembered shrieking in panic at the sight of her beloved father being reduced to ashes before her, and being restrained by her mother and someone else, probably her governess, Lady Rosaline. Lady Briefs had severely punished her later, but Bulma hadn't even been able to remember for what. Later on, someone had told her that her screams had echoed all of the way up to the palace, and that her mother had been horribly embarrassed. Embarrassed!-- over her own daughter's understandable grief.  
  
As the coffin and her father's body slowly burned, the nobles drifted back to the palace to go on with their lives. Soon only she and her mother remained, standing before the growing pile of ashes.   
  
Lady Briefs watched the dark smoke curl up into the sky with an emotionless face. She did not even appear to be sad, merely humbled for the moment. Bulma, however, yanked her hand out of her mother's grasp and approached the pyre slowly.  
  
She fell to her little knees before it, submerging her hands in her father's ashes. She wept at the thought that she would never see her father's cheery face again, nor be protected by his kind words. The ashes were hot, and they burned her fingers, but she hardly noticed. When her sobs became loud and uncontrollable, Lady Briefs stepped forward to pull her back.  
  
"Stupid girl!" she had scolded, dragging her by the hand away from the ashes. "Look at what you've done to your hands! You'll have to wear gloves for a week before the marks go away!"  
  
Bulma said nothing, did not struggle against the woman-- she merely cried.  
  
Her mother had quickly moved on with her life as usual, as if her husband had never passed away, or even exisisted. Bulma never once witnessed her cry. She doubted that she had even shed a tear. But Bulma, however, had never fully recovered.  
  
To this day, she could still feel the smoldering ashes of her father between her fingers, could still smell the burning flesh. The memory haunted her dreams every fall, unfailingly.  
  
Her mother had had the ashes put into an attractive, sky-blue colored vase.  
  
"It matches the color scheme of the room perfectly," she had commented cheerily when the coroner had placed it on the mantle. "Don't you think?"  
  
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+ A/N +In the next chapter, they arrive on Vejitasei at last! I know that you all have been looking forward to that, so I will try my best to make it well worth the wait! Thank you for all of your kind reviews and e-mails. You guys are the best! I'll have the next chapter posted by the middle of the week-- on Wednesday, most likely, so keep an eye out for it. I have nothing else to say... Ja ne! And please remember to review!  
  
Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
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	5. Part Two: 5

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________________________~*Part Two*~: Temptations  
  
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The next morning, Bulma found herself in the control room of the ship, hopefully awaiting their landing on Vejitasei. Throughout the entire unsteady ordeal through the atmosphere, the captain remained cool and confident. Bulma was grateful that Yamcha was smart enough to at least hire a skilled pilot.  
  
  
  
"We're about to make our landing, Your Highnesses," the captain called out. "There might be a bit of a jolt."  
  
Yamcha confidently remained where he was, while Nataliah and Bulma moved closer to the walls. Sure enough, Vejitasei's atmosphere set the ship rocking. Bulma was not frightened, however-- she was too busy trying to catch a glimpse of the planet through the small porthole beside her. Soon the ship steadied, and Yamcha hurried over to her.  
  
"Remember what I said about our entrance," he hissed into her ear. "Impress and intimidate."  
  
Bulma averted her eyes and acted as if nothing was wrong. Yamcha had indeed double-checked her appearance, as she had guessed he would. She wore a sheer golden wrap that secured at one shoulder with the royal insignia of Earth engraved onto the button, a dainty golden choker, many jangling bracelets and anklets to match, and even golden earrings in her ears. Her long curls were contained partly in a weave, with strands falling free to frame her face. Her eyes were smoky, her cheeks flushed, and her bow-shaped lips stained. She looked and felt beautiful, but a more than a little uncomfortable in the transluscent fabric. Her mother would have been appalled at the hinted outline of her small but perfectly shaped breasts, and the darkened circles of her nipples clearly defined beneath the flimsy material that was designed to accomadate Vejitasei's hot climate.  
  
Nataliah was dressed in a plain white wrap, with only a silver necklace on her throat. Bulma was jealous of her comfortable clothing, though she was knew that, in turn, Nataliah envied her own uncomfortable garment. She had said it herself earlier that morning, while she had been dressing her queen.  
  
The ship lurched again, and Bulma realized that they had landed. Yamcha grinned as he made last-minute arrangements for their entrance. When everything was in place, he turned to her, brown eyes gleaming.   
  
Bulma stared at the arm he offered her, then took it. Yamcha yanked her close to his side and looked her over once more.  
  
"You look marvelous," he informed her. "I especially love the material of that Saiyan wrap."  
  
Bulma resented the transparent material and Yamcha with all her might. "Thank you," was all that she could safely manage.  
  
"You'll knock those bastards on their asses for sure."  
  
Bulma smiled tightly, but only because the crew was watching. "I do not like this at all."  
  
Yamcha's grin disappeared. "Stop being so difficult. Pretending to negotiate this treaty is crucial to my war plans. Without a war, they'll be swarming and purging our planet within the space of a year."  
  
"I think that a peace agreement would remedy that," Bulma replied bitterly.  
  
"No-- with this war, our problems will be over forever," he assured her impatiently. "Captain-- open the doors."  
  
Bulma watched as the doors of the ship opened slowly, revealing thousands of eager Saiyans surrounding the landing platform, anxious to get a look at the Earthlings. Nataliah's sources had been correct-- the people were all similarly tanned, with dark eyes and hair, and the planet was rather hot, the air dry. The landing platform was surrounded by red desert as far as the eye could see. They seemed to be on the outskirts of the capital city. In the distance, Bulma could just barely make out some of the highest towers of the palace. The barest trace of salty sea air could be detected from that direction.  
  
Before she had time to make any further observations, Yamcha began striding confidently towards the small group of regal-looking Saiyans who stood at the end of the platform. Bulma was painfully aware of the reaction that Yamcha had so gleefully planned for-- Saiyan men and women alike chattering away excitedly about this beautiful, ethearal-looking queen. The worst, however, was still yet to come.  
  
Surprisingly enough, it was the nobly beautiful Saiyan woman who stepped forward to meet them. Bulma knew that this was the queen, partly because of her deep green eyes, so much like her old friend Maylene's, and also because of the strange, royal sort of aura that emitted from her. Bulma took in the harsh, dangerously pretty looks and wise, knowing eyes and wondered what this woman was thinking.   
  
"I am Queen Magdalene of Vejitasei," she began in a pleasant tone. Her Saiyan accent was heavy, but Bulma could easily make out her words. The accent sounded somewhat like what Australians on their own planet would have. "King Yamcha, Queen Bulma-- I welcome you on behalf of the royal family."  
  
"Charmed, I'm sure," Yamcha replied boredly. "Who is the man in charge here? I would very much like to know who I will be dealing with."  
  
The Queen looked more than little offended, but kept her temper. "My son, Crown Prince Vejita, will head up all of those matters."  
  
A strong, darkly handsome man stepped forward, favoring Yamcha with a disapproving scowl.   
  
"While you are on my planet, you'd do well to learn your place, King Yamcha." He spoke Yamcha's title as if it made him sick to his stomach. "As for your ridiculous entrance-- you've succeeded only in showing Vejitasei the beauty of your wife and the extent of your foolishness. Congratulations."  
  
"If you'll follow us, we'll show you around the first class part of the city, and then to the palace," Queen Magdalene continued, shooting her son a warning look. Prince Vejita promptly ignored her.  
  
Yamcha, his pride wounded, but not to be put off so easily, moved ahead to speak with Prince Vejita, leaving Bulma alone with the Saiyan Queen, who offered a warm but tight smile.  
  
"You possess a rare beauty, my dear," she said. "However did you end up with a man like that?"  
  
Bulma, shocked by the bluntness of the Queen's comment, didn't know what to say. The Queen recognized her awkwardness and laughed a bold, ringing laugh that made Bulma feel as if she were laughing with her, not at her.  
  
"I see that I've gone too far. Don't be put off by the brashness of my kind, m'lady. You'll grow accustomed to it soon enough."  
  
Bulma made a real effort to smile. "I suppose I shall have to. Thank you, by the way-- for your compliment."  
  
"Don't mention it, my dear," Queen Magdalene replied. "My son is the biggest thing that you and your king have to worry about. I'm simply a mean old lady with too many opinions and way too much authority."  
  
Bulma could not help but laugh merrily, but inside she felt guilty for waging war upon such a remarkable woman.  
  
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Vejitasei proved to be an oddly beautiful planet. Queen Magdalene saw to it that everywhere possible was decorated tastefully, to counter the harsh red desert environment that surrounded them on all sides but one-- the one that was flanked by an amazingly turquoise ocean.   
  
The capital city was a bustling, diverse place full of first and third class alike. Shouting merchants, much like the ones who had been below Bulma's balcony as a child, crowded the streets with their shops and stands, peasants and nobles made their homes in alleys and townhouses, and children ran through the streets, laughing and playing like any Earth children would. Bulma heard many languages and dialects, but the only two she could recognize were Saiyan and English. It seemed that English was used here as a common language among traders. Most of the first class spoke it, as it was taught early on to Saiyan children.  
  
Queen Magdalene took them around the main parts of the city, to the many exotic food and spice stands as well as some of the upscale restaurants that could be found. Bulma found herself sampling the spicy native Saiyan food as well as some of the cuisine that she could have found back on Earth. They also ventured over to some of the silk merchants, who clamored and shouted over each other for a chance to outfit Queen Bulma. She politely declined their offers.  
  
Yamcha and Prince Vejita walked ahead, not paying any attention to anything besides their argument. Bulma could not make out anything besides the occasional curse, the majority coming from Prince Vejita, who had a colorful and nasty vocabulary.  
  
The closer they came to the palace, the more beautiful the landscape became. A common decoration were the Saiyan Queen's beloved magnolia trees. Bulma felt the urge to paint them. Despite her mother's attempts to hide it, she was a very creative person-- a skilled painter and musician. Palm trees grew right along with the magnolias, another common plant, giving some places an almost tropical look. Bulma felt as if she had stepped into a dream.  
  
Even the palace itself was gorgeous-- tall and Gothic-looking with more than its share of towers and stained glass windows. It was surrounded on two sides by gardens, one side a large training facility, and on the other by the ocean.  
  
It dwarfed even Earth's enormous palace at home. Queen Magdalene seemed delighted to have someone share her love of the place and was more than eager to share her knowledge. Yamcha and Prince Vejita remained uninterested, though Yamcha did sneak a glance at the beautiful palace once or twice while Bulma was looking.  
  
They soon came to the coast line, and Queen Magdalene stopped, much to Bulma's disappointment. She loved oceans.  
  
"I wish that I could take you farther," she apologized. "But unless you are properly equipped, going over the rocks would end up being dangerous." At Bulma's fallen expression, she smiled. "The view from your balcony should suffice, I suppose."  
  
Bulma nodded. "That should be lovely, Your Majesty."  
  
Yamcha turned to her and crossed his arms. "So, now that our entertaining little tour is done and over with, could we please be shown around the palace now? That tour would be far more useful to my wife and I, seeing as we'll be spending the majority of our time on business."  
  
"Pushy, are we?" Prince Vejita taunted from behind Yamcha. He grinned lopsidedly at his mother. "They are merely weak Earthlings, Magdalene-- we should dump them into our ocean and show them how the Saiyan empire gets things 'over and done with'." Bulma was a little suprised at Prince Vejita's calling his mother by her first name-- it was something that simply wasn't done on Earth. She guessed that it was more of a personal thing.  
  
Yamcha, meanwhile, turned an unsightly shade of red. "I hardly find that amusing, Your Highness. Is it part of regular Saiyan protocol to harass their guests?"  
  
Prince Vejita's grin never faltered. "Only the useless ones."  
  
Queen Magdalene chose this moment to interfere. "No, King Yamcha, it is not. It is merely my son's version of our protocol. Please ignore his attitude problem."  
  
"Humans are pathetic, sniveling creatures," Vejita sneered, eyeing Yamcha and Bulma like they were common street trash. "If I had had a say in the matter, Earth would have been purged years ago, before the population had a chance to flourish like it has." His black eyes gleamed maliciously. "But they have been allowed to swarm over the planet and stupidly used up all of their resources, and now they are trying to come and do the same here."  
  
"Vejita--" Queen Magdalene tried to interuppt.  
  
"Shut up!" he snapped, his attentions completely fixated on Yamcha, who was beginning to look more than a little worried for himself. "I will not allow you and your whorish wife to fool me as your father has done in the past. I am in control now, and I shall see the end to your mind games!"  
  
"How dare you address me like some kind of inferior--" Yamcha began angrily.  
  
Bulma interuppted him, much to their collective surprise. "You are certainly entitled to your own opinion, Prince Vejita, but this is a diplomatic mission, not a declaration of war." Her blue eyes met the surprised Saiyan's black ones and held their gaze steadily. "I am looking forward to witnessing the progress that our planets can make together, peacefully."  
  
Queen Magdalene's eyes twinkled when Bulma spoke up, and she placed a hand on the other woman's bare shoulder affectionately. "Bravo, m'lady-- well spoken."  
  
Prince Vejita studied this Earthling Queen through narrowed, suspicious eyes. "Indeed."  
  
Yamcha, seeing that he had lost control of the situation and been staged by his own wife, decided to take matters into his own hands. He stepped forward, snatched up his wife's hand, and slapped her full across the face. The resounding sound echoed off of the rocks around them. Bulma made no sound, no effort to break way from her husband's grip, just turned her head and took her blow timidly.   
  
"Speak when you are spoken to!" Yamcha snarled. "You have no right to address male royalty in such a manner! Do you hear me?!"  
  
Bulma nodded. "Yes."  
  
Yamcha grinned, then released her and stepped back. "Good. Now, on to the palace." He started away from the coast and towards the palace, whistling as he walked.   
  
Queen Magdalene rushed to Bulma's side, her green eyes concerned. "Kami, what a blow! Are you alright, child?"  
  
Bulma lifted her head to respond to the Saiyan Queen's question, but instead of answering, she kept silent. Prince Vejita was studying her again, his tanned face impassive and completely devoid of emotion. When he met Bulma's gaze, however, he scowled and turned away after Yamcha. Queen Magdalene touched a finger to Bulma's red cheek.  
  
"I am fine," Bulma finally answered. "I'll be alright in a moment."  
  
"That was quite a slap," the Saiyan Queen pointed out seriously. "You look as if you've weathered worse before."  
  
Bulma could not believe that Yamcha had the gall to strike her in front of the Saiyan monarchs, but at the same time was not surprised. She hoped that Yamcha felt proud of himself-- Prince Vejita was probably up there congratulating him on overcoming his human weaknesses and gaining dominance over his saucy wife.   
  
  
  
"Perhaps I have," she said softly, smoothing down her sheer wrap. "It is really none of your business, Your Majesty. We are here on business, not for a leisurely visit, so let us keep going, hmm?"  
  
Queen Magdalene watched as Bulma carefully made her way over the rocks and back towards the palace, where her husband and Prince Vejita waited. It was only too obvious-- Earth's Queen had overcome much worse than a mere slap to the face, and would likely end up weathering numerous more. It was also obvious that she had long since given up hope.  
  
She was looking at an empty shell; a lost soul; a broken woman.  
  
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The inside of the palace was every bit as beautiful as the outside. The floors were a dark marble flecked with obsidian, as well as the walls and columns that lined the great halls. The ceilings were high, and luxurious red and gold curtains hung over enormous stained glass windows.  
  
Lining the walls in the passages were hundreds of skillfully created tapestries and murals depicting sour-faced leaders, bloody war scenes, and rugged Saiyan landscapes. Back on Earth, such decoration would have been considered unthinkable and scandalous, especially in a palace.   
  
  
  
Yamcha apparently thought the same thing, because he grumbled and scowled at everything he could. Bulma embraced the refreshing change from the norm.  
  
They were shown into modernly furnished meeting rooms, an antique chapel within the palace, and countless other interesting places in the palace before they arrived in the grandest room of them all-- the throne room. Bulma caught her breath in appreciation.  
  
The ceilings were the highest she had ever seen, a true architechural marvel, and the columns that supported them looked like the trunks of trees. On one side of the room, two smaller thrones sat on either side of a larger one, and curtains designed to provide privacy when drawn hung on both sides. On the opposite side of the room, the wall was almost completely occupied by a large picture window that overlooked the rocky coastline. Directly in front of the doors, across the room, was a door that led out onto the balcony. It looked it could host an enormous party. A larger-than-life crystal chandelier hung in the center of the room. It far exceeded the quality of the throne room back on Earth, Bulma observed.  
  
"Your welcoming celebration will be held here tonight," Queen Magdalene said, smiling at their impressed reactions. Even Yamcha could not hide his awe. "What do you think of our humble home so far?"  
  
"Nice," Yamcha admitted reluctantly. "I am much more interested in seeing your training facility, though. Do you have one?"  
  
Vejita chuckled at the foolish question. "Saiyans are the strongest beings alive, human. Our training facility is vastly superior to what you have." He watched Yamcha for a minute, then scowled. "Your power level is pathetic. It closely matches mine... on the day I was born."  
  
Queen Magdalene's eyes danced, but she made an effort to hide her amusement. "Do not worry, King Yamcha. I shall have one of the elite warriors show you to an area where you can safely train without the interference of others."  
  
Bulma hid a smile. What the Saiyan Queen meant was an area where he would not be made fun of. Apparently Yamcha's ego got in the way of his comprehension, because he seemed content enough. Prince Vejita looked as if he wanted to wring the king's neck.  
  
"You are undoubtedly weary from your journey, so I shall show you to your rooms now," Queen Magdalene said. "Your servants as well as your belongings are waiting for you as we speak."  
  
"There is no need for my presence any longer," Prince Vejita said, taking a seat on one of the thrones lazily.   
  
It was then that Bulma noticed his tail, twitching behind him like a cat's as it eyed its prey. He noticed her glance and smirked.   
  
"See anything interesting?"   
  
Bulma saw that the Queen and Yamcha had already crossed the room. Prince Vejita still watched her, calculating.  
  
"Excuse me," Bulma muttered. Before the prince could make another remark, she hurried to follow the others.   
  
  
  
She made a note to never take a watchful eye off of the cold Saiyan Prince.  
  
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She and Yamcha's chambers were extremely lovely, as the Queen had told her earlier.   
  
An enormous bed took up a great portion of the main room, along with a nightstand, two bureaus, a vanity, and a blank canvas along with paints, just in case one of them found artistic inspiration. There was a bathroom also, complete with an oversized bathtub. The furnishings were the most luxurious Bulma had ever seen.  
  
But the best part of the room was the balcony. It was huge, made out of white marble and overlooking the crashing waves of the sea. Bulma breathed in the brisk salt air and sighed contentedly. Queen Magdalene noticed and smiled.  
  
"Beautiful, isn't it?" She came to stand beside her, leaving Yamcha to examine the room for himself. "You love the ocean?"  
  
"Of course," Bulma replied. "I have never lived near to one before, though."  
  
  
  
"The waves will chase away your nightmares," the older woman informed her lightly. "Or at least that's what they say."  
  
"Can they chase away reality?" Bulma asked, almost inaudibly.  
  
Queen Magdalene's sensitive Saiyan ears caught the comment easily, but she sensed that Bulma had not intended for her to overhear. She wisely acted as if she hadn't. "I must be off to do my royal duties," she said, stepping away from the railing. "I expect to see you both tonight, at the welcoming celebration."  
  
Bulma smiled and watched her go. Yamcha may not have, but she found that she had taken a great liking to the woman. She made her feel like a real person, not a sideshow freak like most other people did.   
  
As for the woman's enigmatic son, however... he must have inherited his father's personality.  
  
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When Queen Magdalene returned to the throne room, Vejita was still slumped in his seat, glaring at nothing in particular. This day, she could hardly blame him.  
  
"Well," she began, sitting in her own throne. "King Yamcha was certainly a character. His wife was exceptionally lovely, though. Don't you think?"  
  
Vejita scowled. "Who gives a shit? All that matters is the treaty. That pathetic human is trying to fuck us. He wants war." But, despite his nonchalance, Vejita had noticed Queen Bulma. It had been impossible not to.  
  
  
  
"I cannot believe that the bastard struck her," Magdalene continued. "And in front of foreign leaders!"  
  
Vejita examined the golden tips of his boots. "It wasn't the first time, and it won't be the last."  
  
"What a terrible life that girl has had," his mother said sadly. "It is such a shame-- she's an exquisite, intelligent girl. She used to be a spunky one, but apparently her life has all gone to hell."  
  
"And how do you know that?" Vejita raised an eyebrow. "You did not spend enough time with her to learn her entire life story."  
  
Queen Magdalene sighed. "Her eyes. You can see everything just by looking into her eyes."  
  
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+ A/N +They finally meet! There was zero romance, and hardly any references to each other, but one can't just rush into these things. Bulma is married, after all. There'll be some major interaction in the next chapter, and also-- the welcoming celebration! Will Bulma and Yamcha receive a warm welcome, or be completely and totally rejected? Find out next time, in... Nevermind. What the hell am I talking about?? I hope that everyone likes the faster update. I wans't expecting to have this done until at least Wednesday, but the voices in my head wouldn't leave me alone until it was on paper... uh... computer screen. Well, until next time... ja ne! Oh yes, please remember to REVIEW!  
  
Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
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	6. Part Two: 6

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
  
  
...................................................................................Rhapsody~*  
  
________________________~*Part Two*~: Temptations  
  
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"What do you think, m'lady?"  
  
Bulma glanced up from her painting-- still just a faint sketch of the crashing waves of Vejitasei's ocean, but an indicator of Bulma's skill nonetheless-- and studied the two wraps her handmaiden held up.  
  
"Oh, Nataliah, I don't know!" Bulma set down her charcoal pencils and moved reluctantly away from the canvas. The other woman held up two similar wraps-- one a warm rose, the exact same color as the human queen's flushed cheeks, and the other a sheer white that resembled the snow that most Saiyans would never see. Both secured at each shoulder, thank Kami, and fell to around the ankles with some extra length in the back. Bulma shrugged and gestured to the snow-colored wrap. "To remind everyone of where I come from."  
  
Nataliah nodded and hung the other wrap back in the closet. "I was hoping that you would choose this one," she confided, admiring the delicate garment. "It's beautiful."  
  
"Beauty is as beauty does," Bulma dismissed.  
  
Nataliah's brows furrowed at her unexcited tone of voice. "Do you not want to go?"  
  
"Not really," Bulma confessed, looking down at her feet. "You know how Yamcha gets."  
  
Nataliah avered her eyes. She had witnessed firsthand the adverse effects that liquor and loud music had on Earth's king. It was never pretty.  
  
"Yes, but surely, since you are here to represent--"  
  
"No," Bulma interuppted. "That will only make it worse." Rather than dwell on the inevitable, Bulma began stepping out of her plainer clothing. "If you would help me dress, please?"  
  
"Of course," Nataliah consented, smoothing out the white garment. "How would you like me to dress your hair, m'lady?"  
  
Bulma sighed and stared down at her half-naked body. Thinking of what was to come made her sick to her stomach. "It hardly matters," she responded dully. "Whatever you wish to do."  
  
After all, nobody would be looking at her hair.  
  
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Yamcha was impatiently awaiting her when she emerged out of their room with Nataliah close behind her. He was dressed simply in elegant Saiyan armor, which, in Bulma's eyes, looked far too bulky on the human man's lean, almost inexistent muscles.   
  
Her outfit, however, was a winner if the expression on her husband's face was to be considered. The frosty white wrap was slightly transluscent; sheer enough to hint at the outline of her bust but nothing more. Nataliah had applied some barely-there shimmer to Bulma's shoulders and collarbone, as well as some on her face, which had been kept clean with the exception of a natural-looking bit on her lips and around her sky blue eyes. Her hair was half-up and half-down (an almost scandalous hairstyle back on Earth) and delicate silver and diamond-encrusted jewelry completed the look.  
  
"You've done well this time around, Nataliah," Yamcha commented stiffly, unsuccessfully trying to mask his arousal. Then, without warning, he pulled Bulma to him with a greedy grin. "We make an excellent pair, don't you think?"  
  
Rather than wait for her answer, Earth's king trudged forward in the direction of the throne room, dragging Bulma along beside him.  
  
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The memory of the last real party that Bulma had attended was not one that she thought of often, but it was no less poignant than any other she possessed.  
  
The night of the party, she changed from her hoity-toity white dinner gown to a scarlet dress with black lace trim. Her mother would have a nosebleed if she got a good look at the low neckline, scandalous color, and flashy accessories. She left her hair half-down and lined her eyes with kohl that she had had Nataliah pick up from a merchant in the open-market a few days before.  
  
She examined her reflection, then snuck out of the silent house, clutching her black handbag to her chest. She was off to her friend Lucinda's favorite nightclub. It was known to a select few young people as an escape from everyday life and the rules that restricted them. It wasn't a public place, of course-- it was strictly an underground affair. Bulma knew that if her mother found out that she was going 'slumming' then she would have been severely punished, so she had arranged for Lucinda to pick her up.  
  
When they finally arrived, Bulma let loose a sigh of relief and visibly relaxed.  
  
"You're safe now," Lucinda assured her. She was wearing a yellow dress and a bit too much rouge. Her black hair was also half-down-- even the unconventionally bold Lucinda wouldn't stoop so low as it let it loose and free. "Relax. You're by far the most becoming lady here."  
  
"Of course I am," Bulma agreed matter-of-factly. "I am Lady Bulma, the apple of Lord Yamcha's eye, the belle of the ball, the glowing goddess."  
  
"Couldn't agree with you more."  
  
Bulma and Lucinda turned to face a moderately handsome man-- a lesser noble, from the looks of him-- and giggled. Lucinda winked and disappeared into the crowd, her hips swaying in tune with the music.  
  
"Care for a drink?" the man asked with a bow. At Bulma's hesitation, he grinned. "No one shall hear of our association tomorrow-- I swear to it, my lady."  
  
Bulma did accept the drink offer, though her interest in the man offering was by no means serious. After engaging in a polite conversation, Bulma found her way back to Lucinda's side.  
  
"Personally, I found Intergalactic Relations to be quite dull," Lucinda was saying to a small group of unfamiliar men. "There is not a single bit of useful information in the entire class. Not unless you wish to deny your identity as a proper lady and all that. All the class describes is how women on other planets have gained their independence from their men." She appeared to be a little bit drunk. "Its a man's world, I'll admit it-- and I'm content to toast to that. Wouldn't you agree, Bulma?"  
  
Bulma, suddenly sickened, shook her head. Everyone, even Lucinda, seemed to be on the same wavelength-- women are on this planet to cater to the men that own them. The whole room seemed to be watching as she hurried from the club and out onto the deserted streets.  
  
Alone... again.  
  
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The doors of the throne room, now turned ballroom, were heavily guarded. Four burly, angry-looking Saiyan men stood by the entrance, arms crossed. They carried no weapons, and judging by the tingly feeling of ki in the air around them, Bulma guessed that it was because they required none.  
  
Yamcha tried not to look too intimidated beside her, but his fingers tightened on her arm when the guards stepped in front of him expectantly.  
  
"I am King Yamcha," Bulma's husband announced importantly. "I demand that you let me through to my own celebration."  
  
The tallest of the men, a bald man with bulging muscles, raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You don't look like a king."  
  
One of his comrades, a shorter man with long black hair, nodded in agreement. "Kind of scrawny, like a third-class or something."  
  
Bulma, who had stepped slightly behind Yamcha, stepped forward so that she could get a better look at the men before them. They certainly looked nothing like Prince Vejita, the sole male example she had to compare them to. Rather than looking darkly handsome, their features just looked... rugged.  
  
The men noticed her when she moved and felt their jaws so slack at the sight of her. No Saiyan woman they had ever laid eyes on possessed such beauty.   
  
"Sorry about the mistake, Your Majesties," the tall bald one managed after he recovered from initial shock. "Have a nice evening..."  
  
Bulma ducked her head as she passed by the men, feeling their prying dark eyes rove over her body mercilessly. She immediately regretted wearing the beautiful white wrap. Why bother when it made her feel like such a freak?  
  
"Impress and intimidate," Yamcha whispered into her ear. "We must make an impression on the nobility that we will be dealing with. Remember that!"  
  
"It would be hard to forget," Bulma replied.  
  
Most conversation stopped when they entered the room. Bulma could hear her heart beating wildly.  
  
The room was packed full of curious Saiyans of all shapes and sizes. Queen Magdalene and her son sat on their places on the thrones and also looked up when they entered. The men in the room followed Bulma with their eyes, not bothering to hide their staring. Yamcha's chest puffed out with pride when he noticed the attention his wife was receiving.  
  
The Saiyan nobility stepped aside to make a pathway for them without being ordered to do so. The Queen and Prince waited for them, eyes calculating. Bulma kept her eyes on the floor.  
  
"Well met, Your Highnesses," Queen Magdalene greeted. "You're both looking well this night."  
  
A few not-so-subtle comments and noises could be heard around the room in response to the Queen's comment. Surprisingly, the woman laughed merrily. Bulma's cheeks burned.  
  
"I see that the rest of the court shares my opinion."  
  
Yamcha cleared his throat, wishing to be acknowledged. He had wanted to gain the attention of everyone in the room, but he had not intended for it all to be directed at Bulma. Prince's Vejita's black eyes narrowed dangerously, but his mother cut him off before he could comment.  
  
"Its truly a pleasure to have you both with us on this occasion," Queen Magdalene continued sharply, with a sideways glare at Prince Vejita. "Feel free to socialize-- no one will bite." Judging by the court's quiet reaction, it was clear that this queen had complete control over her subjects. Bulma felt her respect for the woman grow. "Dance and have a good time."  
  
The activity in the room picked up again, though glances were still thrown in Bulma's direction regularly. The Saiyans danced, drank, and gathered on the balcony to gossip contentedly. While Yamcha spoke to a nearby noblemen, Bulma took the opprotunity to study the other people in the room.  
  
As she had observed at the landing platform, the Saiyans all had tanned skin and dark hair, with very few variations. Bulma could only see a few people with different colored eyes, including the Queen herself. The women wore wraps similar to her own, though the effect on the male population was not the same, and the men wore armor like Prince Vejita's and Yamcha's. They seemed so much more relaxed than Earth's first class-- all dancing and drinking like they hadn't a care in the world. And the way they danced-- swaying hips, loud drums, and intimate closeness was so foreign to Bulma. Back on Earth, every dance had specific steps and timing that must be memorized. But here... A part of Bulma wanted to run out there and join them in their strange dance.  
  
"Excuse me for a little while," Yamcha said, releasing Bulma's arm. "I am going to join this kind gentleman for a drink."  
  
Bulma watched as Yamcha was led across the room by a random Saiyan, grinning from ear to ear. She knew that Saiyan liquor was quite a bit stronger than human, and inwardly dreaded the consequences that she would have to face later that night. If he returned to their room at all.  
  
"Don't worry about your husband."  
  
Bulma whirled around to face Queen Magdalene, who had come off her throne to speak to her. The woman wore a green wrap that matched her eyes perfectly, and many gold bracelets that made pleasant noises whenever she moved. Her hair was plaited into hundreds of small braids and twisted up onto her head. Bulma smiled gratefully. Without companionship, she have had no idea what to do with herself in this room full of strange people.  
  
"What do you mean?" she asked.  
  
"I will have one of my guards see that he arrives to your rooms safely." The Saiyan Queen's eyes were kind and knowing.  
  
"Thank you," Bulma replied softly, looking down at her hands.   
  
"Don't mention it," Magdalene replied. "My husband used to be the same way."  
  
A brief understanding passed between them, and Bulma found herself smiling genuinely. The expression lit up her whole face, and several Saiyan men nearby stopped their activity to stare for a moment. Queen Magdalene noticed and grinned impishly.  
  
"Perhaps I should leave you alone so that you can socialize, hmm?"  
  
"Socialize?" Bulma repeated, feeling incredibly stupid.  
  
"Dance a little bit," Magdalene suggested, gesturing to the groups of swaying nobles nearby. "I'm sure that you'll have no problem finding a partner."  
  
"Oh-- oh..." Bulma did not know what to say. Back home, a married woman never even spoke to another man without her husband's permission, let alone engaged in a dance. And especially not a dance of the kind that these people were doing. But that secret part of her that had craved to dance earlier beckoned to her. She could not resist it any longer. "Do you suppose that I could do it?"  
  
"Do what?" Queen Magdalene asked. "Dance? Of course you can! Who is going to stop you?" She gazed pointedly across the room, where Yamcha was groping a dark-skinned Saiyan lady, who appeared to have no objections to his touch, nor the sweet nothings he was whispering into her pierced ear.  
  
Bulma followed her gaze, and her eyes darkened. "You're right. Thank you, and excuse me."  
  
The moment she stepped away from the Saiyan Queen, she was approached by a good-looking warrior with a bow. Magdalene smiled as Bulma relaxed slightly and began dancing with the man, then headed back to her throne.   
  
"She's a natural," she informed her son excitedly, watching Bulma move along to the rhythm of the exotic music. Her happiness made her glow. The people nearby stopped their dancing to watch her.   
  
Prince Vejita snorted, but his eyes followed the queen's movements. "I hope that you're proud of yourself."  
  
"Of course I am," Magdalene said, smoothing down the fabric of her wrap. "The poor thing is like a caged animal, and I just handed her the key."  
  
"For tonight, at least," Vejita retorted. "After this, she'll go right back into her shell."  
  
"No," Magdalene insisted. "She's had her first taste of freedom, and its an addicting thing. Who knows what she'll decide to do next?"  
  
  
  
Vejita did not respond, just watched the human woman lose herself in the music.   
  
Bulma closed her blue eyes and allowed herself to be swept away, forgetting her dance partner and the people all around her. All she could think about was the sweet sensation of dancing. She felt as if she could spread her arms and fly away from her problems, from Yamcha, from her sour memories...  
  
Vejita could not help but feel drawn to this strange woman. He was not one to go from one woman to another endlessly, as some of his royal relatives had a tendency to do. Just because a woman was available to him did not mean that he would take advantage of that fact. He found himself wondering what was going through this girl's mind right now, as she danced away her problems for the moment.  
  
Secretly, he had been just as shocked as his mother when Yamcha had struck her earlier. But far worse than the action had been the reaction-- the blank, hopeless look in the girl's clear blue eyes, and absolute lack of retaliation. Vejita was not known for his controlled temper, but even at his worst, he would have never struck his own woman in such a manner, and never in front of the people that he was trying to impress. He couldn't even imagine the woman's embarrassment and trauma when her husband had done the unthinkable. But even worse were the thoughts of what else the man had done to her, late at night when they were all alone...  
  
"Vejita?" Magdalene's voice shattered his strange thoughts.  
  
Vejita looked down at his hands and realized that he was near to crumbling the armrests of his throne beneath his fingers. "What?" he snapped, turning to face his mother impatiently.  
  
Magdalene raised an eyebrow at her son's tone of voice. "I was just saying that perhaps you should go out there and have some fun, you know--"  
  
"Oh, please," Vejita groaned, tuning the Saiyan Queen out before she had finished her sentence.  
  
She was always trying to distract him, whether it was from his training or personal life. He was suddenly quite sick of it.   
  
Out on the dance floor, Bulma had switched partners and was now dancing with Kakkarott, one of the elite warriors. Vejita felt another wave of anger wash over him-- not jealously, mind you, just general hate and frustration. Kakkarott was an elite only because of his power level, dangerously close to the Prince's own. He hated the man with all of his might, and here he was, dancing with the royal family's guests like he was some kind of king...  
  
"Don't even say a word," Magdalene warned, following his gaze with her own green eyes. "Kakkarott has done no harm, I can never understand why you hate him so. But oh-- does Bulma look happy with him!"  
  
She was right-- Bulma was grinning from ear to ear. Kakkarott chattered on obliviously, apparently not even realizing who or what he was joking with-- the Queen of Earth and the most beautiful woman in the Universe. He was acting as if she were any other noblewoman.  
  
And Bulma was loving it. She swayed to the music as Kakkarott related to her a joke that he had heard earlier that day. She had never been approached with a joke before, nor spoken to by a man like just any other person. She found herself wishing that she could stay on this dance floor forever, dancing like a heathen and talking about what happened when a Namekian walked into a bar and asked for a brandy.  
  
From his throne, Prince Vejita watched her silently, thinking his own unconventional thoughts.  
  
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Bulma was dancing to her second song with Kakkarott when a familiar hand was placed on her shoulder, shattering her brief moment of peace and freedom.  
  
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Yamcha demanded, slurring his words as he pulled her away from the confused Kakkarott and to the edge of the crowd. "Who was that?!"  
  
Bulma tried to pull away, but Yamcha's grip only tightened. "Nobody! I was just dancing, Yamcha! You were doing the same thing, I--"  
  
"No!" Yamcha exclaimed, shoving her up against one of the columns violently. "No!"  
  
Bulma felt the breath knocked out of her and rasped for air. "Yamcha... please..."  
  
"You are mine!" her husband ranted. "Mine! You will never act like that again, you hear?"  
  
Hot tears began forming in Bulma's eyes as she fought uselessly against her intoxicated husband. "Please-- not here, not now..."  
  
Yamcha pressed his mouth to hers forcefully, the smell and taste of liquor overpowering in Bulma's mouth and down her throat. Yamcha's hands groped her clumsily, and she was painfullly aware of the stares of half the throne room. She was back to where she had started now, to being the abused wife and trophy of Earth's king...  
  
Then Yamcha was off of her, and Bulma fell back dizzily, her vision blurred with tears.  
  
"What the..." Yamcha was calling out. "Son of a bitch!"  
  
When her vision cleared, Bulma could make out the form of Kakkarott, restraining Yamcha with little trouble. She choked on sobs of relief and embarrassement and struggled to her feet again. The collective nobility of Vejitasei looked on, shocked.  
  
"Come on, Your Majesty," Kakkarott coaxed, pulling him slowly away from Bulma and the crowd. "Lets go somewhere else, where you can regain your composure."  
  
The Queen of Earth watched as her drunken husband was publicly escorted from the room, shouting obscenities and insults against the citizens of Vejitasei as he went. His words slurred together, and Bulma knew that he must seem like a lunatic to the Saiyans.  
  
She couldn't bear it any longer. The girl covered her face with one hand and hurried out of the room, towards the balcony, where she could be alone.  
  
Prince Vejita and Queen Magdalene, who had risen to their feet when the commotion had started, watched the woman escape from the room with dark eyes and expressions. Queen Magdalene held back tears of frustration and despair for the poor girl.  
  
"Kami have mercy on her soul," she murmured, lifting her eyes briefly to the ceiling. "Someone must go after her. She is unstable."  
  
Prince Vejita followed her retreating form with his eyes. Something told him that if he had spotted the controversy before Kakkarott had, he would have been the one down there dragging Yamcha away, but he wouldn't have spared the bastard the beating, as Kakkarott had done. He knew that his mother intended to send him down there after her, but he needed no coaxing. He slid off of his throne and weaved his way through the crowd after her. The Saiyans of Vejitasei had long since learned not to meddle in the volatile man's business, so they averted their eyes and continued their socializing without a second thought.   
  
Out on the balcony, Bulma supported herself against the railing, shedding her tears silently. The large, dark sky was full of stars this night. They were much clearer here, on Vejitasei, where no pollution clouded the view as it did on Earth. The broken woman searched the heavens for a familiar star, but could find none. She craved for a constant in her life, something to hold on to, but she could find none. The only familiar thing she recognized was the bright form of Earth in the distance, and that was hardly a fitting constant. Earth was where all of her problems had began, and would undoubtedly continue after their return.  
  
This hadn't been the first time Yamcha had gotten out-of-control drunk. It had happened many times before, but never in front of so many people, and especially not while they were on a diplomatic mission. The thought of all those Saiyans laughing at her misfortune and witnessing her weaknesses firsthand made her want to leap off of the balcony. She would never be able to face them again.  
  
Bulma fingered the delicate material of her beautiful wrap and ignored the salty tears that fell steadily onto it. For a short time there, she had begun to feel like a normal person and not the freak of nature that she was. It had been an amazing sensation. It seemed only fitting that Yamcha should ruin that, too. He had already ruined every other aspect of her life-- why not take away her only moment of freedom also?  
  
Prince Vejita paused just outside the doors of the throne room and studied the back of the girl before him. Her shoulders shook a little as she cried, which told him that she was restraining herself. Every so often she would lift her face to the skies, as if searching for something. He followed her gaze and noted the bright object that was Earth, and frowned.   
  
He remembered how free and happy she had looked while dancing, like an angel in her frosty white wrap, Saiyan-style. It was a shame what had become of her life. Such a woman deserved to be cherished, not beaten and embarrassed in such a matter.   
  
Bulma whimpered a bit, and lowered her head so that her curls fell forward, revealing the creamy skin of her back and neck. She looked like a beaten dog-- completely and utterly defeated and hopeless. Her shoulders began to shake again, and Vejita's sensitive ears could just barely pick up the sounds of her sobs. For some reason, he felt like turning back around and bestowing on Yamcha what he had placed upon Bulma. But he couldn't.  
  
"Looking for a particular star?"  
  
Bulma started and turned a tear-stained face to the Saiyan Prince. Her blue eyes widened in recognition, but then her face turned blank again.   
  
"No, Your Highness," she responded softly, turning back away from him again.  
  
Prince Vejita moved over beside her and looked over his mother's carefully tended gardens, then beyond them to the rocky coastline. Bulma's eyes were locked on the churning waves, the same color as her own stormy eyes. He could just barely catch her soft scent of vanilla and jasmine as the warm breeze caressed their faces, and found himself being drawn to this odd creature once again.   
  
"If you aren't doing anything," he began suddenly. "Then come with me."  
  
  
  
Bulma looked surprised and a little bit suspicious of the Saiyan Prince. "What?"  
  
Vejita smirked and hopped over the balcony railing and down to the ground twenty feet below, aided by his ability to fly. Bulma leaned over the balcony to watch him with wide eyes. No one on Earth, not even Yamcha, was strong enough to fly.  
  
"How am I supposed to get down?" she called, looking for a way to avoid making a decision. She desperately wanted to follow this mysterious man, for whatever reason, but reason was holding her back. Prince Vejita had given her more than ample reason to not trust him, so why risk it? Bulma glanced over her shoulder at the celebration, where Yamcha undoubtedly waited, then back down at the prince, who crossed his arms impatiently.  
  
  
  
"How do you think?" was Vejita's crisp reply.  
  
Bulma hoisted herself up onto the railing, then paused. She imagined herself sitting beside Maylene in the same position, years ago back on Earth. This was just the sort of thing that her old friend lived for, and the same thing that she herself had yearned to partake in her entire life. She thought of herself back on the dance floor, swaying to the foreign music like some sort of heathen, and of Yamcha's fist making hard contact with her face. She thought of all the memories that she hadn't the power to forget, the memories that haunted her in every waking moment, and realized that there was no decision to be made here.  
  
Below the balcony, Prince Vejita waited.  
  
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+ A/N +Now there's a longer chapter for you! I just had to stick that evil ending in there, to keep you guys on the edge of your seats. I get such a thrill out of doing that, every time... ^_~ I'm leaving for a horse show this on Thursday, so, depending on how quickly I can get the next chapter written, expect an update then or Monday. Anyway, I want to thank all of you BIG TIME for your 20+ reviews of the last chapter! You can't imagine how excited I was to see that! You guys are the best! I couldn't ask for any more than you have already given me, so I will leave you with my usual plea... keep up the good work and REVIEW!  
  
Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
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	7. Part Two: 7 REPOSTED!

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________________________~*Part Two*~: Temptations  
  
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Prince Vejita watched the woman closely as she leaned over the railing precariously. He could see the emotions and indecision as clear as day on her face. The delicate material of her white wrap flapped in the wind, and he had to blink to make sure that she was real, not some trick of the moonlight. He scowled at these weak feelings he was experiencing and impatiently waited for her decision.  
  
Earth's Queen looked over her shoulder, then leaned over the railing again.   
  
"Hold on for a minute, if you will," she called down cautiously. "I'm coming down."  
  
She took a deep breath, then mustered up her courage and attempted to scale the high railing in her constraining dress. Eventually, she made it over and sat on the railing for a moment, regaining her composure. Then she glanced over her shoulder at the party, where the Saiyan nobility danced as if nothing had happened. Then one of them met her eye disapprovingly, and whatever qualms she had felt before disappeared.   
  
"Hurry up!" Prince Vejita snapped from the ground below, crossing his arms impatiently. "I don't have all night."  
  
Bulma nodded, closed her eyes, then released her grip on the railing. She comforted herself with the thought that if he didn't catch her, she would be killed instantly and her own personal hell would be over. Thinking it over more, Bulma realized that perhaps that was what she really wanted.  
  
She hoisted herself up on the railing in a sitting position, took a deep breath, then closed her eyes and let go. She hardly felt the sensation of falling-- as soon as she released her grip on the railing Prince Vejita rose to meet her with a scowl on his face. Bulma opened her eyes reluctantly. She instantly met the gaze of the Saiyan Prince and supressed her initial fear of the harsh man as best she could.  
  
Vejita slowly floated back down to the ground. The human woman was so unnaturally skinny and unmuscular that she felt like a mere skeleton in his arms. The scent of her, however, was intoxicating. She smelled of warm vanilla and jasmine. The Saiyan quickly purged such thoughts from his mind as soon as he realized what was happening. Thinking about the married queen in that kind of way would bring war upon both of their planets, because when he wanted something, he never ceased chasing it until he had it in his possession.  
  
Bulma smoothed down her wrap when they reached the ground and took a few steps away from the Saiyan Prince, trying to be inconspicuous. They were now standing beneath the balcony, on the edges of Queen Magdalene's beautiful gardens. The smell of magnolias was heavy in the air, and Bulma began to feel pleasantly lightheaded.  
  
"So are you going to stand around here all night?"   
  
Bulma moved to follow Prince Vejita through the gardens silently, ever on guard. If someone were to see them here and tell Yamcha, there would be hell to pay. She cringed to think of the consequences and hoped that she could trust this strange man.  
  
"Where are you taking me?" she questioned after a few moments of seemingly aimless wandering through the gardens.   
  
"I despise people who ask stupid questions," Vejita responded from ahead of her.   
  
Bulma was at first offended, then realized what he meant. The smell of salt was strong in the air, and growing increasingly poignant as they traveled. In the distance, the faint sound of crashing waves could be heard. She felt her heart begin to pound in excitement. The ocean-- Prince Vejita was taking her to the ocean.  
  
"Why are you doing this, may I ask?" she pressed further. "Quite frankly, Your Highness, this is not normal royal protocol."  
  
Vejita snorted. "And neither was the incident in the throne room, or the one earlier by the coast."  
  
Bulma's cheeks flushed in embarassment and shame. "I suppose not, but sometimes those things cannot be helped..."  
  
"Bullshit," was her companion's curt response. "You would have to be blind not to see what is going on. The bastard is still in there now, dancing and getting himself drunk without a second thought towards the whole point of this trip."  
  
"On behalf of my husband, I apologize for the commotion," Bulma started nervously, wringing her hands in a very unladylike manner. In this relaxed, exotic setting, she hardly even noticed. "He just gets a little bit... frustrated sometimes. But I swear to you, the peace talks will go quite smoothly."  
  
Prince Vejita raised a skeptical eyebrow. "It doesn't take a genius to see that that is a lie, but it does take some thought as to why the hell you would defend your husband when you obviously believe otherwise."  
  
Bulma was shocked in spite of herself. On Earth, not even her closest comrades would have dared to pry into her private life, if that was what Vejita was doing, and here he was, talking as if he fully expected her to respond. She was partly relieved at the change from formality, but at the same time a bit unsettled by his dark, calculating eyes and dangerously alluring accent. She could not even allow herself to consider what might happen if she allowed herself to be won over by his strange, casual world and darkly handsome looks.  
  
"I love Yamcha," she claimed stiffly. "He is my husband, and I am his wife-- it is not my place to talk about our private matters."  
  
Vejita smirked, and Bulma had to look away to keep from smiling back. "You know, if I were a human, then I might have fallen for that. But, unfortunatly for you, I am a Saiyan. I can smell your fear."  
  
The Queen of Earth's heart skipped a beat at this insinuated threat. If Saiyans could literally smell fear, then what else could they detect? "My marriage is not a topic open for discussion, Your Highness. I can't understand why you should be concerned anyway."  
  
"I'm not," Vejita informed her seriously. "My nosy mother is. She concerns herself with everyone else's problems and never her own, the stupid woman. She sent me off after you like some sort of mediator."  
  
"Queen Magdalene is one of the kindest people I've ever met," Bulma said with a smile.   
  
Prince Vejita chuckled, clearly amused at this opinion. "Then you don't know her very well."  
  
"Where is your father?" Bulma asked suddenly, reaching out to pluck a flower from its bush. "Your mother is such a beautiful woman, I would think that--"  
  
"The son of a bitch is dead," Vejita interuppted, angered by her question. "Magdalene killed him with her own bare hands."  
  
Bulma's jaw dropped before she could stop the reaction. "She killed him? But... why?"  
  
Prince Vejita's eyes darkened with memory. "She did it when I was ten. The bastard treated her in much the same way that your husband does to you. When it kept on getting worse, she just powered up and killed him. He suffered, of course, to make up for all of the years that he had given her pain. That's the best thing that she ever did."  
  
Bulma thought of how terrible things must have gotten to drive the seemingly level-headed Queen Magdalene to murder her own husband. Then the memories of all that Yamcha had done to her rose to the surface of her mind, and her heart sunk as if she were reliving them again. Just as Vejita had described, Yamcha's treatment of her was not improving. But the idea of killing him... Bulma pressed a hand to her throbbing temples and brushed the dark thoughts aside. Magdalene was a Saiyan, part of a race notorious for their quick tempers and inhuman strength. Perhaps that sort of thing was more common on this planet. Bulma would not have been surprised.  
  
"I am sorry," she finally said softly. "I know what it is like to lose your father at a young age."  
  
Vejita scowled. "I was relieved when he was stuck into the ground."  
  
They passed through the remainder of the gardens in an awkward silence. Bulma's mind raced with images of Queen Magdalene finally giving in to her frustration and fear and doing away with her husband, grinning as she squeezed the life from the abusive man. Then the images of the Saiyan monarchs were replaced with those of she and Yamcha. He screamed and struggled uselessly as she killed him, and she couldn't help but smile in the darkness at the thought.  
  
Prince Vejita, having superior vision in the dark, caught her slightly sadistic smile and held back one of his own. It was as he had said-- he had felt no remorse when his father had been killed. The man had beaten both he and his mother from the start, and he had often contemplated doing it himself, if he had only been strong enough. Glancing over at Bulma, however, he realized that she, unlike his mother, did not have this option. Even on her best day, she could not match the strength of her husband. She was trapped. He knew how she felt.  
  
They stepped out of the gardens and onto a small path that led behind the palace and down to the rocky coastline. Queen Bulma paused and allowed him to lead the way down the narrow path, her cerulean blue eyes still cloudy with thought. Vejita did not mind the silence; he in fact preferred it, so he made no efforts towards conversation. Then Bulma took a seat on a rock nearby and pulled her knees to her chest, looking more relaxed than Vejita had ever seen her.   
  
"Do you come down here often?" she asked quietly.  
  
Vejita nodded, glaring out across the dark waters. "When I pissed off."  
  
Bulma bent her head back, exposing her white throat to the breeze. She was silent for a moment, allowing the wind to caress her body luxuriously. "It must be so nice to have a place like this," she continued. "Nobody can find you here."  
  
Vejita glanced over as she rested her chin on her knees and closed her eyes. He would not have been able to survive for this long without having somewhere where he could be alone. Bulma had done it, and here she was now-- a caged animal at best. Rather than go against character, he remained silent and kept his eyes on the ocean, watching out of the corner of his eyes as she savored the brief feeling of freedom. This time, Yamcha was not here to take it away from her.   
  
Then she slid off of the rock and back down onto the beach. She began picking up shells as best she could in the darkness that hindered her kind. Under her breath, she started humming a song that sounded strangely familiar to Vejita. It caused the hairs on the back of his neck to rise and triggered his memory.  
  
"What is that you're humming?!" he demanded, more harshly than he had intended.  
  
Bulma started and turned wide blue eyes to him. Even Vejita had trouble resisting their dangerous beauty. "You really can hear well, can't you, Your Highness?" At his impatient expression, she hurried to answer his question. "Is the only Saiyan song that I know," she explained. "I was flipping through a history book one day and it was just..." She shrugged. "There. It appealed to me in a strange way, I suppose."  
  
Vejita furrowed his brows, but did not comment. His black eyes remained fixed on the churning water. Bulma, puzzled, turned away and commenced her humming, oblivious to Vejita's dazed state. The Saiyan Prince, however, was far from puzzled. He was downright confused.  
  
When Saiyan children are born, they are traditionally given a song that belongs to them, that they memorize at an early age and sing on their way to lessons. They are supposed to be able to distinguish their true mates through this song, for the Saiyans believed that if two people really had a bond, they would know each other's songs instinctively. It was an ancient tradition that dated back farther than anyone could remember, and one that would likely be continued for centuries.  
  
Vejita's song, however, was an odd one-- a tune full of ups and downs and unexpected twists that perfectly matched the volatile man's personality. While the other children hummed songs of hope and celebration, the Saiyan Prince had only his haunting rhapsody to soothe his numerous nightmares and use to pass the time. His father had possessed one much the same, which was reason enough for him to hate it.  
  
But now, hearing it from this exotic woman's lips, it took on a whole different sound, like the waves of the ocean or thunder during a storm-- darkly beautiful. It seemed that it was too extraordinary of a coincidence that she should know it, but then again, she was human, and married.   
  
Vejita scowled at these overemotional thoughts. She had found it in a damned history book, so what was the big deal?  
  
"Do you suppose that someone will see Yamcha back to our chambers?" Bulma asked, interuppting his train of thought.  
  
Vejita found himself looking back into her alluring face and clenched his fists in frustration. "Probably not."  
  
"Oh." Bulma's face fell, and the shells she had been collecting slipped from her fingers. "Then I had better be returning to look for him."  
  
Vejita stared at the abandoned shells on the sand, like last hopes and dreams that were now Bulma's life. "I will see to it that he's returned by morning."  
  
All that Bulma could manage was a grateful smile that made him want to eat Yamcha alive like the savage that he was thought to be.   
  
"Pick your shells back up, woman, all they do here is litter the beach."  
  
"Thank you, Your Highness," Bulma said as she collected her shells again. The frosty white wrap flapped gently in the breeze, giving Vejita peeks of her slender figure beneath the transluscent material. Her skin was almost as white as the dress, he realized. "Would it be possible to come here again?"  
  
Prince Vejita slid off of his rock and beckoned for her to follow him back over the rocks. "Perhaps. I would much prefer to get these talks the hell over with."  
  
Bulma glanced back over to the ocean, thinking that she couldn't disagree more. Then she began to hum Vejita's song again.  
  
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When Queen Bulma was safely returned to her chambers, and the throne room was completely empty of servants and guests, Prince Vejita emerged from the balcony to sit beside his mother on the throne. He had been gone for over an hour, and Magdalene's bright green eyes gleamed with curiosity.  
  
"So?"  
  
Vejita slouched in his throne and adopted his usual scowl. "What?"  
  
Magdalene's anxious smile disappeared. "Don't play stupid with me, Vejita. I wish to know what happened over the past... what, hour and a half?" She suddenly looked alarmed. "How is the poor girl? She didn't fall into the ocean, did she?"  
  
Vejita smirked. "Don't worry Magdalene, the sharks on this planet are quite friendly, I'm told."  
  
"I've had enough of your sarcastic bullshit, Vejita!" Magdalene warned seriously. "Queen Bulma's problems are no laughing matter."  
  
"Its none of your business anyway," Vejita pointed out. "Who the hell cares if the bastard hits her? They're here to sign our treaty, not become our best friends!"  
  
Magdalene's green eyes were hard, and her mouth set in a tight line. "Something happened, something noteworthy. I can see it in your eyes, and I can smell it on you." When Vejita's eyes narrowed stubbornly, she returned his glare with one of her own. "Allow me to remind you that I am still queen and ruler of this planet, Prince Vejita. And most importantly, I am your mother and only parent. I think that I have a right to know what has unsettled my son so much."  
  
Vejita was not impressed. "Fuck your alleged authority, Magdalene. No one has told me what to do since you killed my father."  
  
Magdalene stared at her son in shock. No one had brought up that portion of their dark family history in years, though the images still plagued her dreams and undoubtedly his. It was then that she knew that indeed, something had happened out on the beach that night, something that had startled Vejita enough to snap at her in a way that he hadn't since childhood. She decided to use her better judgement and back off. For now at least.  
  
"You are right, of course," she allowed breezily. "You are a grown man now, and soon to be king."   
  
Vejita narrowed his eyes suspiciously, and Magdalene could not help but see more of his father in him than herself. The thought chilled her straight down to the bone. And that, of course, was not an easy thing to do.  
  
"Be sure that you don't train yourself to death tonight, you understand?" Magdalene then stepped out of her throne and exited the throne room, leaving her baffled son behind to wonder what had come over her.  
  
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Magdalene had met Vejita's father two years before his birth, at a royal function in the height of summer. She had retreated from the party to the balcony in attempts to escape from the suffocating heat, and the burly Saiyan Prince (or at least he had been prince back then) had followed her.  
  
Later on he had admitted that it was because he had been intrigued by her strange appearance. Unlike most other Saiyan women, she had snapping green eyes and a stubborn expression that gave away her natural fire. Tired of having to consort with the endless parade of look-alikes that his father had been providing in hopes of him mating, Vejita senior had taken a chance on the most unlikely woman imaginable.  
  
Magdalene's family was a good one, of course-- one of the noblest and strongest on the planet. But generally, Saiyan men were not willing to take the risk of mating with a woman so different from the norm. They both had been young, desperate, and lonely, which perhaps accounted for their bad marriage and abusive relationship.  
  
Vejita had charmed her with his oily words and handsome face, and in no time at all she was his fiancee. She sported an enormous diamond on her ring finger, a fresh bite-mark on her neck, and had the jealousy of every woman in the court by the time they were married in the spring of the following year. She had foolishly believed that she was living in some sort of utopia. Unfortunately for her, it hadn't lasted long.  
  
Soon into the marriage, Vejita began to hit her. Not slaps, mind you-- blows across the face and to the tender parts of her voluptuous body, intending to keep her securely in her place as the quiet, obedient mate that he desired. At first, she had made excuses for him, even going so far as to blame herself for her husband's behavior, but then it all began to fall apart in her mind.  
  
The blows got harder, and so did her resolve. Soon enough, she was striking him back and receiving punishment for her insolence tenfold. Then came the day when she felt as if she could not take it anymore and slipped away from the palace to gather her thoughts.  
  
It was there that she decided what she had to do. She was getting older now, as was her son Vejita, and things would only get worse. She feared that if something weren't done soon, he would kill her.  
  
All seemed according to plan until she discovered that her husband had been striking her son as well-- when she wasn't around, of course. Now responsible for not only her own life, but the life of her adolescent son, she was forced to move ahead with her risky plan.  
  
She remembered entering their room that night, scared out of her wits, thinking that it was now or never. She would never forget the expectant look in her husband's dark eyes, the angry look and the raised fist that she had been cowering from for the past twelve years.   
  
She would cower no more.  
  
Vejita did not notice the long knife she had hidden in her wrap until the last moment, when she had already carefully inserted it between his ribs. She vividly remembered his dark life's blood soaking onto her from his fresh wound, warm and sticky between her fingers.  
  
King Vejita had uttered one last sound-- the chilling death rattle that she had been picturing in her dreams for years now, and then fallen. When the royal guards found him, she fed them a heart-wrenching story depicting an intruder and a bloody fight to the death. Then she showed them where the criminal had jumped out of the window. Not a single person questioned her story. It was exactly as she had planned it.  
  
No one cried at his funeral, not even his own son.  
  
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+ A/N +Umm.... *blushes*... I reposted this chapter, obviously... Oh dear I feel like dumbass extraordinaire. Rather than double-checking my drafts since I was in such a hurry, I accidently posted the uh, rough draft of this chapter. I'm terribly sorry about the confusion over Vejita's age when his father was killed, and in case you didn't read the entire *EDITED* thing, he was ten. I suppose next time I'll have to take my time, huh? Once again, I apologize for any confusion on your behalf, and I can assure you that this will NEVER happen again! Oops! LOL! Ja ne for now!  
  
Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
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	8. Part Two: 8

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________________________~*Part Two*~: Temptations  
  
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Bulma awoke the next morning with the tangy smell of the sea still poignant in both her nostrils and her memory. She sat up in her bed and stretched slowly, savoring the moment's peace.  
  
She had returned to her chambers the previous night to find Yamcha passed out on the couch in the main room, with a note attached to his forehead. Stamped onto it was the royal crest of Vejitasei. Bulma was surprised at Vejita's efficiency, but more relieved than anything else. That is, until she got a closer look at her husband's unfastened fly and the cheap scent of rose perfume floated up to her nose. The Queen fleetingly remembered the random Saiyan woman he had been fondling at the celebration and frowned. Hopefully she wasn't a gossip.   
  
Sure that Yamcha was accounted for, she had gone to bed, only to find herself busied with dreams of the blue ocean and magnolia trees. But even more startling than the dreams of the palace's beautiful surroundings were the dreams of what had happened in the palace itself. Bulma had dreamed that this was her home.   
  
In her dream, she had walked the halls in whatever clothing she chose, swam in the ocean, and even sported a healthy golden tan. After a long day of pleasant walks around the palace grounds, she had returned to the palace where she found Maylene waiting for her to join in a dance.   
  
They moved to the loud music like the Saiyans did, and spoke to any and all men freely. When the dance ended, however, Maylene disappeared, and Bulma found herself sitting on a balcony railing in her nightdress. Not far below, Prince Vejita waited, smirking lazily, with a handful of seashells.  
  
Bulma slipped out of bed, her mind still reeling over her strange dreams, and arranged her seashells in careful rows on her vanity, thinking of the previous night's events. She didn't even think to hide the shells from her husband, who no doubt would grow suspicious.  
  
After guiding her back to the palace without much conversation, just a comfortable silence, Prince Vejita had had her escorted back to her chambers by a timid Saiyan maid. He had let her go without so much as a bow or a formal good-bye. Bulma found his detached mannerism unsettling and rude, but at the same time... charming. The man put on no airs, though there was no underestimating his arrogance. His strong presence made her feel protected and safe. Not once had she worried about whether Yamcha could harm her or not.   
  
She knew that it had been Queen Magdalene's suggestion for him to go after her, but that fact was easy to ignore. For once, Bulma allowed no harsh realities to hinder her dreams.   
  
Nataliah found her standing out on the balcony, daydreaming, soon later. The handmaiden cleared her throat to get her attention.  
  
"What is it?" Bulma asked, bathing shamelessy in the warm morning sun. Boats sped across the ocean waters already, leading Bulma to guess that the Saiyans were morning people, much like herself. She much preferred these active people to the hungover, lazy humans back at home.  
  
"The Queen has requested your presence in the throne room, m'lady," Nataliah responded. "And you should be careful of your complexion-- the sun here is harsher than on Earth."  
  
"Thank you," Bulma dismissed. "I will be in to dress shortly."  
  
She waited until Nataliah had gone back inside before smiling broadly. Queen Magdalene had requested her presence-- hers alone. Bulma could hardly believe her luck-- for once, someone had requested her presence and not her 'superior' husband's. She stood in the sun for another moment, then turned to go back inside, hardly knowing the extent of the enjoyment ahead of her.  
  
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Soon later, Nataliah had Bulma fully prepared for her meeting with the Queen.   
  
She was escorted out of her chambers (after carefully side-stepping around Yamcha's sleeping form) wearing a pale yellow wrap cut similarly to the one she had worn the night before. It secured at both shoulders and was just slightly transparent, by Bulma's special request. Somehow, she felt strange and fake wearing revealing clothing in front of the Saiyan Queen. She had a way of making you feel as if she could see straight through you. Bulma did not want to make the expression literal.  
  
When she arrived at the throne room, however, Queen Magdalene was not sitting on her throne or at a meeting table set with the convential tea and scones; she was standing around, impatiently waiting for her. She reminded the human of her son as he had waited for her the night before. When Bulma was dropped off and entered the room, she smiled in welcome and motioned for her to follow.  
  
"I have something that I want to show you," she announced with a sly smile. "Something that I think you'll like very much. If you'll follow me, m'lady."  
  
Bulma did her bidding and tried to contain her excitement. What could she possibly have in store for her? They hadn't gone far when the Queen stopped in front of a pair of rich wooden doors. Magdalene turned back to her with a reassuring grin before opening the doors to let her through.  
  
  
  
Bulma was awed by the sheer beauty of the grand old room. The Queen smiled knowingly at her slack-jawed expression.  
  
"It had much the same effect on me when I first came here," she explained, looking over the Gothic columns fondly. "But the most beautiful part of this room..." She walked over to a large, expensively made piano. "is right here."  
  
Bulma regarded the piano in such a way that suggested she knew what to look for, and the Queen couldn't help but notice.  
  
"Do you play?" she asked. "I had no idea that you were musically inclined, Your Majesty."  
  
Bulma's eyes were clouded over with memory as she circled the wonderful instrument slowly. "I used to. The piano is not considered a ladylike hobby back on Earth, so my experience is... limited."  
  
Her mother's scolding voice echoed in her mind. 'Useless piece of trash.'  
  
"I love music of all kinds," Bulma continued blankly, closing her eyes as the voice got louder.  
  
'You and your ridiculous hobby are worthless...'  
  
"It was... my escape."  
  
'Miserable, manly whore... you belong on the streets with the rest of the starving artists!'  
  
Bulma winced at the memories, then opened her eyes. The Queen was looking at her strangely.   
  
"I also like to sing, which was more acceptable, but... it didn't matter. My fingers were forever cursed because they had caressed the keys of that damned piano." Her tongue savored the feel of the swear word, which hadn't been uttered in years.  
  
"I would like to hear you play," the Queen said gently. "To hear one played on this planet is a rare treat indeed."  
  
Bulma hesitated, then took a seat at the piano. Just before her fingers touched the ivory keys, she paused. Blue eyes sought green ones.  
  
"No one will frown upon you here," the Queen assured her, coming to rest her hands on the instrument.  
  
Bulma nodded, then her fingers touched the keys and she played. She wasn't sure what she played-- when she began she was immediately transported to another time and place, where she was sitting in front of another, much less luxurious piano. She played even as tears ran down her much more youthful face in the eyes of her memory.   
  
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She was alone, in a secluded room that was her only sanctuary at the time. The music was pouring from her fingers, straight from the depths of her tortured soul. Then the door was slammed open, and her mother stormed in.  
  
Her face was twisted as if the cheerful harmonies were painful to the ears. "Bulma Briefs! I've had enough of this unacceptable behavior! Stop that horrible racket and return to your chambers this instant!"  
  
Bulma had stopped playing, but did not move away from her beloved piano, carefully hidden away in her governess' chambers. "Mother, my lady-- its only music."  
  
Lady Briefs raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Yes, and you're only a stupid, silly girl with hopeless ambitions and no talent whatsoever."  
  
The insult weighed heavily into the silence for a moment. Then Bulma stood and stepped away from the piano, her blue eyes vulnerable enough to give away her tight expression. Lady Briefs smiled triumphantly.  
  
"That's a good girl," she consented, putting her hands on her hips. "Now get out of my sight!"  
  
Bulma had scurried away, leaving her coveted music behind her for the last time. Lady Briefs had won-- the girl hadn't so much as touched a piano since that day, so many years ago.  
  
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When Bulma opened her eyes again, her song was over and Queen Magdalene was studying her with an odd expression on her face. Bulma blinked a few times to clear her vision, then reluctantly shifted her fingers away from the smooth old keys.  
  
"I am sorry," she muttered, wringing her hands together nervously. "The piano is in perfect tune, I'm just not sure of what I played, and--"  
  
Magdalene held up a hand. "Don't apologize. It was breathtaking."  
  
Bulma was still for a moment, then she sighed heavily, her tense shoulders relaxing a little. "I haven't played in such a long time. It must have been terrible."  
  
"It was perfect," Magdalene corrected her. "You possess a rare talent, my dear. Its only fitting that you exercise and shape it. You are welcome to come here and play whenever your heart desires. I'll have someone come in and clean it up a little, as well as post some guards at the doors."  
  
Bulma stared with wide blue eyes as Magdalene stepped away from the piano and over to the large, floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite side of the room. Then she stood and crossed the room to stand beside her.   
  
"That is not necessary," she informed her seriously, though her heart was racing with joy at the thought of being able to play music again. "Please don't go through all of that trouble for me."  
  
"It would be my pleasure," the Saiyan assured her. "As a matter of fact, I plan to come and listen every once and a while. It isn't often that I have the chance to watch a true musician perform live."  
  
Bulma's grateful smile and teary eyes were heartbreaking. "I have never received a better gift in my entire life."  
  
Queen Magdalene snorted. "Don't be silly!"  
  
They stood and looked out the window in a seemingly comfortable silence, but inside, Bulma secretly thought that Queen Magdalene was mistaken.   
  
This truly had been the best thing anyone had ever given her.  
  
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Meanwhile, Vejita was on his way from his breakfast in his chambers to the gravity room and training facilities on the opposite side of the palace.   
  
He had not slept well the previous night, and planned to beat the insomnia out of his system. All night, he had been hearing his song, that same haunting melody over and over again. Something in the back of his mind was screaming for him to comprehend the message, but it was no use. He could not understand, no-- he would not allow himself to understand. His temper and cold attitude were infamous, and he would not allow anything to jeopardize his real focus in life. Training.  
  
The doors that made up the barrier between the training area and the palace loomed before him, a solid reminder of his ultimate goal-- acheiving the status of Super Saiyan. He must fight to keep his mind on the right track, he reminded himself silently.  
  
The guards nodded and bowed as he passed, their expressions guarded. They had long since learned never to break the prince's concentration with needless words, so they made no comment. Vejita liked it that way. He did not have to waste time reminding them of their place in the scheme of things.   
  
The training facility was fairly empty-- only a few of the elite warriors trained half-heartedly. Vejita scowled, knowing very well that the others were still hungover from the celebration in their beds. When the elites sensed the Saiyan Prince in their midst, they picked up the pace immediately.  
  
Vejita moved past them with a frown, back towards his own private gravity chamber. He picked up a clean towel and wrapped it over his shoulders. But when he approached the controls, he found an unpleasant surprise. It was on and in use-- at two times normal gravity, no less!  
  
Vejita slammed off the switch, powering up to kill the stupid weakling who had dared to enter his private gravity room. With his blue ki flaring out around him like fire, he entered the deactivated room. But instead of meeting the expected clueless second-class warrior, he found himself face to face with none other than King Yamcha of Earth.  
  
  
  
Upon seeing the glowering prince, Yamcha started and jumped away impulsively.  
  
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Vejita demanded angrily, his hate for this cowardly man growing by the second. "This is my private gravity room, you fool!"  
  
King Yamcha shrugged nervously. "The men outside told me to train here."  
  
Vejita made a mental note to punish the scheming elites, then focused his attention back on Yamcha.  
  
"They were mistaken," he snapped, crossing his muscled arms. "Now if you don't mind, get your weak ass out."  
  
Yamcha made an attempt to glare back. "I don't understand why we can't just spar," he suggested with a false bravado.   
  
Vejita smirked at the entertaining thought. "You are only capable of withstanding two times normal gravity, compared to my nine hundred. I could kill you with one blow."  
  
Yamcha started to protest, but Vejita interuppted him before he could muster a single word.  
  
"What are you doing here anyway?" he asked. "Humans aren't capable of real exercise, everyone knows that."  
  
"I am the strongest man on Earth!" Yamcha exclaimed angrily. "I could take on anyone who isn't a genetically mutated ape!"  
  
Vejita's ki began to rise rapidly, and before Yamcha could absorb what was happening, he was being gripped at the throat by a pissed off Saiyan.  
  
"What did you call me?" Vejita's eyes began to take on a terrifying red tinge, and his flaring ki scorched the human's sensitve skin as it grew.  
  
Yamcha trembled, then rasped an unsteady reply. "You won't get away with this, you b-... bastard! Killing me is a breach of protocol, and thats enough to declare war!"  
  
Prince Vejita's eyes narrowed at the threat. "Beating your woman is also grounds for impeachment. We are even for now, you quivering little son of a bitch, but if you ever cross me again, I will not be so leniant."   
  
He released his death grip and stepped back as Yamcha fell to the floor, gasping. When Yamcha could speak again, he voiced his opinion timidly.  
  
"I will not forget this, Saiyan."  
  
Vejita scowled as the human got to his feet and retreated from the room. He knew very well that what he had just done was grounds for war, but did not care. If the occasion arose, Earth would be crushed in the space of a week. The peace treaty had been his mother's idea, after all-- Vejita would have purged the planet long ago if it had not been for the queen's interference.  
  
Besides, he hardly cared anymore. He had witnessed his father, a man much like Yamcha, do the very same thing with his life, and he had zero tolerance for such foolishness. Yamcha deserved any and all punishment that he could place upon him.   
  
He vividly remembered the beaten-dog look in Queen Bulma's eyes, and found himself regretting that he hadn't hit Yamcha harder.  
  
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Queen Magdalene had left Bulma alone in the music room, having to leave suddenly on royal business. Bulma hardly minded-- the Queen was friendly and amusing to talk to, but she wanted a chance to look over the palace for herself, at least for a little while.  
  
She stayed in the music room for a short while longer, fooling around on the grand piano, then ventured out timidly, strolling through the decorated halls slowly. She wandered silently through the palace, every once and a while stopping to examine a tapestry or interesting painting. This was how the Saiyan Prince found her, on his way back to his chambers.  
  
"Earth women typically do not care for fine art," he commented as he came to stand beside her.  
  
"Then I am not a typical Earth woman, Your Highness." Bulma blue eyes roved over a mounted painting eagerly, taking in all of the gruesome details. "I can't say that I care much for this variety, however." She studied the depiction of carnage and rape with mild amusement that made her nearly unrecognizable. Vejita had rarely seen her animated like this. "I hardly think that any artist could come up with this-- is it a war?"  
  
Vejita smirked. "A mere skirmish, really. Just some unruly citizens."  
  
Bulma raised an eyebrow, thinking that it would not be wise to go to war with such violent people, then moved on to a more normal painting of a proud, tyrant-looking man who startingly resembled Vejita. "Your father?"  
  
Vejita did not answer, just stared at the painting with dark, stormy eyes. Finally he nodded, and Bulma understood.   
  
"My mother was much the same way," she commented softly, bowing her head as the memories came to her again. "Sometimes I even suspect her of poisoning my father."  
  
The Saiyan Prince showed no outward signs of emotion, but inside he was appreciative of her private comment. Everyone else, even his mother, who had done the deed of disposing of the man herself, refrained from mentioning his father as if saying his name would cause him to rise out of hell to haunt them all.  
  
"This one is beautiful," Bulma said, gazing at a painting of the ocean. The colors of the paint matched her eye color perfectly. "As you've already seen, I always have loved the ocean. I am not usually permitted to go near it at home, though. I think Yamcha is afraid that I'll..." She trailed off, realizing who she was talking to. "Nevermind-- I'm babbling. My apologies, Your Highness."  
  
Vejita nodded and examined the painting for himself. He himself had always admired the ocean for its unpredictability and ability to kill as well as comfort. Bulma's eyes lingered for a few seconds longer, then shifted to the next tapestry.  
  
"Thank you for sending my husband back last night," she said suddenly. "He would have never made it otherwise, judging by his condition. You work quickly."  
  
"And discreetly."  
  
Bulma thought that she detected a dangerous insinuation beneath his cool tone, but she couldn't be sure. This was one person who was almost impossible to read. Not that she had any interest in his private thoughts, of course.  
  
"Thank you for that, also," she managed. "The note on his forehead was a... nice touch."  
  
Vejita smirked. "My own little personalization, in case you forgot to whom you owe the favor."  
  
"Right, Your Highness," Bulma replied weakly. Then she moved on to the next picture and focused her artist's eye on the painting. Ironically, it depicted a woman in white clutching a knife to her chest, with tears of what Bulma intrepreted as hopelessness streaming down her face. In the backround, a war waged on. Bulma averted her eyes while Vejita looked on.   
  
"An interesting piece," the prince commented with a sideways glance over at Bulma. "She looks familiar to me."  
  
Bulma's heart seemed to be lodged in her throat, so she said nothing. Instead, she lifted her chin and pressed on, forcing a pleasant smile onto her face. "So, Vejita-sama, when do the negotiations start? I'm sure that my husband will want to know." She placed emphasis on the word 'husband', though she wasn't sure why. Prince Vejita fully understood that she was married, and besides that, why should it make a difference to him?  
  
Vejita remembered Yamcha's cowering before him earlier that morning, and couldn't help but feel amused. His council, as well as himself, could take that cowardice and run with it. "Tomorrow at noon. Tonight you will be introduced to my foreign policy council at dinner. That was Magdalene's idea, of course. The woman can never get something done without making a big fucking deal out of it."  
  
Bulma imagined another incident similar to Yamcha's misconduct the previous night and smiled tightly. "That should be lovely."  
  
  
  
The two passed by a window, and Bulma stopped in her tracks to take a look. Below, the bustling streets of the capital city loomed.   
  
Bulma was reminded of the scene below her balcony as a child and took an involuntary step closer. Groups of young Saiyan children ran through the streets, screaming and laughing. She was soon lost in her reoccuring daydreams of herself as a child, sunburned and dirty, playing with her imaginary playmates like a normal child. Prince Vejia noticed her scruntity and followed her gaze.  
  
"If you want to mingle with the second and third class that badly, Kakkarott and I are going down there to look for training gi's," he informed her a bit stiffly. "I could always send for some, but I dont trust those assholes for a minute. Idiot foreigners..."  
  
Bulma recalled Kakkarott's easy, friendly smile, so out of place among the stern-faced Saiyans, and couldn't help but grin.   
  
"I would love to."  
  
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+ A/N +There you go, an update! And I'm fairly sure that I won't have to repost it this time around, hehe... I'm still pretty embarrassed about that... It was a humbling experience, to say the least. Thank you for being so tolerant, LOL! A note to Stef-chan-- see, I do suck! You would have never done that, I'm sure. Anyway, the next chapter will be up by Wednesday at the latest, so keep an eye out! Until next time...  
  
Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
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	9. Part Two: 9

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
  
  
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________________________~*Part Two*~: Temptations  
  
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Queen Magdalene was out in her private gardens, sitting amongst the drooping branches of a willow tree, when she happened to witness a strange, peculiar thing. Around the bend strolled the oddest trio you could ever hope to see-- her son, Kakkarott, and Queen Bulma herself.  
  
Bulma and Kakkarott engaged in what seemed to be friendly, relaxed conversation, while Vejita listened in his normal, detached fashion. Magdalene made no comment as they approached her, instead she merely watched with dancing green eyes. Kakkarott and Bulma bowed/curtsied properly.  
  
"Where in the world are you three headed?" the Saiyan woman asked, with a pointed look at her son.  
  
"Into the city, Your Majesty," Kakkarott answered eagerly. "Me and Vejita-sama have to pick up some training clothes, and Queen Bulma's coming along to see the city."  
  
"I see," Magdalene said mildly, folding her hands in her lap. "I need to have a word with my son, would you two mind giving us a moment?"  
  
Bulma and Kakkarott moved a distance away, where they struck up a conversation with a passing warrior.  
  
Vejita scowled at being delayed and waited for his mother to speak. Finally, she turned sharp green eyes onto him.   
  
"Are you sure that this little escapade is a wise idea?" she asked sternly. "You are forgetting protocol. She may be pretty, and she may seem to be interested only in seeing the sights, but both you and I now that consorting with a girl married to someone like Yamcha is never a good idea."  
  
"Who's consorting?" Vejita snapped. "You think that I'm some kind of fool, don't you Magdalene? You think that I am like all the other weaklings who can't control themselves around a woman! I am much more concerned with assuring the success of these talks than getting a good fuck out of a married queen."  
  
Magdalene nodded, unfazed by her son's language and crude expression, but something else was nagging at her mind. "Earlier today, I showed Bulma the grand piano. She played beautifully."  
  
Vejita cocked an eyebrow. "And?"  
  
"She played the song. Your song." Magdalene's eyes bored in Vejita's intensely, searching for answers. "That is what happened last night, is it not? She hummed, or perhaps even whistled it, didn't she?"  
  
Vejita frowned. His gaze shifted over to where Bulma and Kakkarott talked, then back. "Its impossible! It has to be a coincidence. She is a weak, mated human who read it in a damned history book!"  
  
Magdalene's expression was grim. "She is not weak. Far from it, actually. I used to be the same way, and look at me now. All the girl needs is time." The corners of her mouth curled up into a smirk that mirrored her son's perfectly. "And a knife."  
  
Vejita snorted.  
  
"I cannot say whether its coincidence or not," Magdalene continued, more seriously. "All I can be sure of is the dangers of falling under her spell. Remember who she is, Vejita."  
  
A grim look passed between them, then Magdalene motioned for him to leave.  
  
"Go on," she said with a wave of her hand. "And tell that tailor of yours to have my dress delivered to the palace in time for dinner tomorrow night, hmm?"  
  
She watched as her son returned to the others and they continued on, chatting casually. She wasn't sure of its origin, but she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that made her want to run and stop them.  
  
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"Ooh, I just love to go to the city! Don't you, Vejita-sama? All of those delicious smells, free food, and friendly people just make me want to live here!"  
  
Vejita rolled his eyes, feeling a migraine coming on. "Kakkarott, you do live here."  
  
The third-class warrior scratched his head. "Yeah, I guess I do, but I'm at the palace so much that it doesn't make a difference where I sleep anymore."  
  
Bulma couldn't help but smile at the conflict between the surly Saiyan Prince and uppity Kakkarott. Putting the arguments and insults aside, it seemed that the two shared a strange friendship. They were complete and total opposites in every way except for their strength. They were sparring partners, always pushing each other to the limit. It was hard to miss their passion for training. Bulma half-heartedly wished that she had something similar to be so enthusiastic about.   
  
"So, Queen Bulma, what do you do instead of train?" Kakkarott asked cheerily as they neared the city. "Well, I'm assuming that you don't train... do you?"  
  
"No," Bulma replied. "I don't. And please, just call me Bulma." It felt so good to give somebody permission to call her by her first name, not at all strange and foreign like Bulma had anticipated it would.   
  
"Alright... Bulma!" Kakkarott grinned, comfortable calling royalty by their first name. "What do you do in your spare time?"  
  
Bulma struggled to think of something to say to these men. What did she do in her spare time besides primp and prepare for the parties that Yamcha lined up for her? "I seldom have time to myself," she finally replied. "I am kept quite busy all day."  
  
Kakkarott accepted her lie and kept on jawing away about this and that, his food preferences, a woman named Chichi, and so on. Bulma half-listened and instead concentrated on her surroundings. Vejita noticed her blank look and began to watch her more closely. Unlike Kakkarott, he had been able to see straight past her lie and to the truth. He knew what she did in her spare time-- catered to Yamcha's wishes and dreamed about all that could have been, as she was doing now.   
  
Her slanted eyes were dark with thought, which made her entire face so intense that, unless you were a blockhead like Kakkarott, you could not take your eyes off of her. Vejita's calculating gaze was just shifting over to get a closer look at her crown of luxurious curls when his mother's seemingly inane warning reared its ugly head in the back of his mind. Magdalene had been right, of course-- her impossibly good looks were proving to be dangerous. Even he, the cold prince, could not help but think of how easily he could span her slender waist with his hands, or--  
  
"Say Vejita!" Kakkarott interuppted, right on time as usual. "Take a look at those peaches! Wow, would I kill for one of those!"  
  
Vejita snapped out of his daze and realized that they were on the outskirts of the city. "Thanks for the observation, you idiot!"  
  
Kakkarott chuckled. "For a prince, you sure are a good kidder!" He proceeded to move forward to take a look at the peaches.  
  
"Is he ever not hungry?" Bulma came to stand beside Vejita, watching Kakkarott through fond eyes. "He annoys you, Your Highness-- may I ask why?"  
  
Vejita scowled. "He is quite possibly the biggest dumbass on the face of the planet."  
  
"But also the friendliest and most accepting person I've met so far," Bulma pointed out, thinking of their wonderful dance at the celebration the previous night.  
  
Vejita watched him swipe a peach and devour it, much to the dismay of the fruit merchant. Sure, Kakkarott was the most annoying and sickeningly friendliest person he knew, but there was something about him that caused Vejita to think that it would be a good idea to keep him around. Perhaps it was because the 'dumbass' knew Vejita better than he himself did. Or maybe it was because he was the only man even close to his strength. Vejita loved a good rivalry. No matter the reason, Kakkarott was here now and there was no getting rid of him, that was for sure.  
  
"I was right!" Kakkarott exclaimed, his mouth full of partly masticated fruit. "The best peaches on Vejitasei!"  
  
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As Vejita and Kakkarott sorted out the situation with the angry fruit merchant, Bulma reveled in the city's busy atmosphere.   
  
All around them warriors joked, merchants advertised, and children shrieked and played merrily beneath the foot traffic. The streets were cobbled to protect feet from the hot sand, and merchants set up tables beneath the shade of the buildings and occasional palm tree.   
  
People stared as she passed, stopping only long enough to bow to their prince. Rather than feeling alienated, Bulma felt like she had been walking the streets for her entire life.   
  
The mixed scents of exotic perfumes, cooking food, and oriental spices floated through the air, and Bulma could not help but think of how appalled her mother would be. According to her, the only good society was one completely lacking diversity and controversy of any kind. Bulma, however, could not help but think of how wonderful it would be to live in a place where she could be accepted in spite of her looks and reputation, and being able to consort with anybody she pleased-- rich or poor, stylish or oblivious to the latest trends.  
  
Finally they reached a sheltered stand behind which stood a man who beamed greedily as they approached. The pins and scissors in his pocket led Bulma to believe that this was their tailor.  
  
"Vejita-sama, who is this?" he asked in a strongly accented, mangled form of English. His eyes roved over Bulma's body conspicuously. "I would love to make you a dress, m'lady."  
  
"She is Queen Bulma of Earth," Vejita responded boredly. "And the only dresses that you'll be making are the ones you promised Magdalene and one for you to wear to your funeral if you don't get me my gi."  
  
After one last look at Bulma, the tailor nodded and selected three wrapped packages. "Here you go, Your Highness, as ordered, and please give my regards to your mother."  
  
Vejita ignored the man as he turned away and led them deeper into the city. He handed one of the packages to Kakkarott, who grinned and ripped open the packaging to reveal a hideously orange training gi. Bulma could not help but smile, but politely hid it behind one hand.  
  
"You're like a child, Kakkarott," Vejita scoffed. "Control yourself, or at least when you're in my presence."  
  
"Do you like my gi, Bulma?" Kakkarott asked, shoving the orange material under her nose.   
  
Bulma laughed happily, causing several people around them to stop their activities to look up at her with wondering dark eyes. "Yes, I do!"  
  
"Vejita prefers dark colors," he informed her seriously, as if this were some great secret. "I think its because he doesn't want to dress like me all the time."  
  
Bulma glanced over at Vejita in time to catch him rolling his eyes. It seemed wiser not to comment on Vejita's personal life. "What exactly is the purpose of these training gi's? Couldn't you just wear your armor to train?"  
  
Vejita snorted. "You obviously haven't walked around in those damned things. Armor is uncomfortable and hot as hell."  
  
Kakkarott nodded solemnly. If there was one thing that he was serious about, it was his training. "Training gi's are light and easy to move around in, so that you can have freedom of movement. Training in battle armor would be like..." His eyes moved to Bulma's wrap. "Training in something like that!"  
  
"I see." The human woman then gestured to their packages. "And why can't you just have a servant fetch those for you?"  
  
Vejita scowled. "Slaves irritate me."  
  
"He always complains about how stupid they are," Kakkarott elaborated. "He's always worried that they'll steal the gi's or screw up the order or something."  
  
  
  
Bulma could hardly blame the Saiyan Prince. Being waited on twenty-four hours a day could get quite bothersome. She thought of Nataliah, alone back at the palace, and felt a pang of guilt. She had gotten lucky, for once, to have an understanding handmaiden. "I suppose that that could happen easily enough."  
  
Kakkarott looked back over his shoulder at the merchant, who was shaking his head at Vejita's rude behavior, then turned back to his prince with concerned eyes. "Hey, Vejita-sama, why did you have to be so mean to that tailor? All he did was offer to make Bulma a dress."  
  
Vejita's blood boiled at the memory of the man's eyes drinking in the slender curves of Bulma's body. This time, Magdalene's warning never crossed his mind. He didn't even stop to rethink what he was feeling towards the forbidden human queen.  
  
"The jackass seems to have forgotten that gaping a royal guest is grounds for punishment," he snapped back. "He got off lucky this time around."  
  
Bulma remembered the tailor's greedy eyes and shuddered. "Thank you for that, by the way. The man was absolutely horrid!"  
  
The three passed through a large set of open iron gates, and Bulma's companions stopped in their tracks. Bulma's uncomprehending eyes looked beyond the gates, where the market ended and the streets became lined with small houses and peasants sitting in the streets. It was only natural that Vejitasei should have its slums also, Bulma supposed as her perfect image of the city was shattered.  
  
"What is this place?" she asked, her eyes coming to rest on a sleeping man who lay on the street. Or at least, she hoped that he was sleeping.   
  
"Its the third-class neighborhood," Vejita said, his face clearly expressing distaste. "You have to pass through to make it into the heart of the city."  
  
Kakkarott nodded. "I used to live here, before my dad was promoted to the security council. I never liked it much. Now we live in a better area."  
  
Bulma could understand why, but she desperately wanted to go to the heart of the city. "We have to pass through, do we not?"  
  
The Saiyan Prince nodded. "Have it your way, woman."  
  
They proceeded to walk forward into the slightly more run-down area of the city. Kakkarott was strangely quiet, his brown eyes darkening with memories. Judging from the quality of the small, crowded homes and the mistrusting eyes peeking out at them from the windows, they weren't the happiest of memories. Bulma lifted her chin and tried not to show her intimidation.   
  
"I used to live right over there," Kakkarott said to Bulma quietly, pointing to one of the houses. "I don't miss it though, the palace is much nicer."  
  
"I would imagine so," Bulma agreed with an interested glance at his previous residence. "Don't you miss your friends here?"  
  
"Yeah, sometimes I do," the Saiyan replied. "But I have lots more up at the palace."  
  
Vejita smirked a little at this, but said nothing. Kakkarott shrugged, not quite understanding his scorn. Bulma sensed that Kakkarott had learned to let Vejita's constant sarcasm roll off of his back. It was a good thing, too-- or else he might have turned into a quivering example of low self-esteem in its most extreme form.  
  
They were just passing a row of slightly larger, more decent-looking houses with flowers in the yards and polished windows (a sure sign of second-classed Saiyans, Kakkarott informed her) when a female Saiyan came out to meet them, smiling in welcome.   
  
Vejita stopped and glared at this woman. "Who the hell are you?"  
  
The woman, who had twinkling dark eyes and shortish black hair restrained with a kerchief, curtsied to her prince respectfully, though her eyes were on Kakkarott. "My name is Chichi, Your Highness. I'm a friend of Kakkarott's."  
  
Kakkarott blushed a deep shade of red and grinned sheepishly at the prince. "Do you mind if I...?"  
  
Vejita seemed relieved. "By all means, leave with the bitch."  
  
Chichi's fists clenched the skirts of her plain red dress, but otherwise said nothing. Judging from her smoldering eyes and tight-lipped expression, she had quite a temper. "Thank you, Your Highness."  
  
Kakkarott waved good-bye to Vejita and Bulma and trotted off into one of the houses with Chichi. When the door closed behind them, Bulma lifted a quizzical eyebrow.   
  
"Are they courting?" she asked with a smile.  
  
"Courting-- a useless human term." Vejita scowled. "Kakkarott is not capable of claiming a mate. It would be like a four year old getting married."  
  
Bulma knew that Kakkarott was a bit immature, but she could vividly recall how fondly he had spoken of this Chichi earlier that day, and his shy smile when she had approached them just now. There was no mistaking love, in Bulma's eyes. She envied them their innocent, carefree romance.  
  
"I disagree," she stated boldly. "There is no mistaking it. You can see it in their eyes."  
  
"How sweet," Vejita quipped. "Its just like Kakkarott to stoop down to second-class, though."  
  
"That's a rather snobby outlook on the situation, if you don't mind my saying so, Your Highness."  
  
Vejita narrowed his eyes at the human queen, caught off-guard by her sudden confidence. "Kakkarott may have been born third-class, but he is an elite warrior now. Its an insult to the station to mate with a plain, second-class woman."  
  
"I thought that she was quite pretty, actually," Bulma replied ironically. It was clear that she didn't understand how she outshined even the most beautiful of Saiyan women. "They look wonderful together."  
  
"Who gives a shit?" was Vejita's irritated reply.  
  
They passed through the second-class area and towards the heart of the city. Soon the homes that lined the streets turned into stores and restaurants, and the foot traffic became much heavier. If it weren't for their royal status, the two would have been rudely swept along with the crowd. Fortunately, the Saiyans recognized their prince and the striking young woman they had seen on the loading dock and kept their distance. Bulma peeked into the windows of the stores curiously, craving to see what it was that the Saiyans sold on their planet. Vejita noticed her curiosity but did nothing. He despised shopping of any kind. He had even managed to keep up their brisk pace and avoid any stops until they reached a smaller, more expensive-looking place out of which floated the light scent of flowers and spices.   
  
Bulma stopped in her tracks, and if it weren't for his Saiyan reflexes, Vejita would have strolled on ahead a few steps before realizing that he was alone.   
  
"What do you think you're doing?" he snapped with a skeptical glance into the boutique.  
  
"They sell perfume in there," Bulma said, more to herself than to Vejita. "How wonderful..."  
  
The Saiyan Prince seethed as she half-walked, half-floated over into the shop, where the merchant (after recovering from his initial staring) pounced at the opportunity to pawn off his goods. Bulma seemed ecstatic to be ripped off. Reluctantly, Vejita entered the shop and nearly vomited on the spot. The sharp scents of the intermingling perfumes burned the inside of his sensitive nostrils and brought tears to his eyes. He wondered how the Saiyan merchant could stand amongst the stuff every day.  
  
"I only use real flowers and fruit extracts for my concoctions," the man was explaining. "That way you can be sure to have the purest scent possible."  
  
Bulma nodded politely, her eyes not on the merchant but on the exquisite bottles of perfume sitting on the counter behind him.   
  
"I have the perfect thing for you, Your Majesty..." the man continued, oblivious to Bulma's daze. "Its a special blend of vanilla and my exclusive floral mix--"  
  
"Do you ever shut up?" Vejita snapped, cutting him off in mid-sentence. "The woman isn't even listening to you!"  
  
Bulma reddened a little. "Of course I was listening!" she insisted. "I would very much like to sample that perfume you were describing." She cast a mildly challenging look in Vejita's direction without even realizing what she was doing. The Saiyan Prince glared back, obviously pissed off that she had made him enter the shop.   
  
Under normal circumstances back on Earth, she would have never even thought of such a frivilous thing as perfume. Only the second-classed and boldest of nobles wore it, and even then it was subtle and demure. Maylene had owned several different scents, and Bulma had always envied her sweet-smelling aura.   
  
The merchant reached behind the counter and picked out a small bottle of the perfume. Bulma's girlish heart skipped a beat at the pretty decoration. The bottle was small, and round for the most part, except for a short neck atop which sat a black stopper. The glass was a light, transparent pink, as was the liquid, and black ribbons were tied around it. The sun shining through the bottle caused tiny rainbows to dance over the merchant's tanned hands and captured Bulma's eyes.   
  
"Its lovely," she breathed, taking the offered bottle into her own hands and examining it lovingly. "May I sample it?"  
  
"Of course, Your Highness," the merchant exclaimed with a businessman's smile. "Go right on ahead!"  
  
Vejita prepared himself for the painful sensation of the scent reaching his nose, but it never came. The bottle that Bulma opened contained a fluid that smelled distinctively like flowers, but was laced with something else that lightened the scent. What had the merchant said... vanilla? The mixture was pleasantly intoxicating, perfectly suited to the exotic queen.  
  
"Its beautiful," Bulma commented, closing the bottle reluctantly. "How much for this bottle?"  
  
The merchant eyed her expensively sewn clothes, then, with a sideways glance at Vejita, named his price. "Seventy."  
  
"Fair enough." Bulma caressed the bottle, then looked back up at the merchant. "I will make arrangements for you to be payed by sunset."  
  
"Thank you, Your Majesty! Thank you very much!"  
  
Before the man could start another sales pitch, Vejita stormed out of the shop. The fresh air chased away the lingering smell of strong flowers and the prince was grateful to be able to breathe again. Bulma said nothing, just stared down at her perfume with an odd look in her eyes.  
  
"What is it?" Vejita demanded.  
  
Bulma looked up, seemingly alarmed. "I would be shunned for this back home. I cannot believe that I just bought this..." Her blue eyes were pleading. "If you wouldn't mind, could you keep this to yourself?"  
  
Vejita felt the tug of those eyes straight through to his cold heart, and something in him changed. He scowled, crossed his arms, and found himself going grudgingly against his usual ways.  
  
"Yes."  
  
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Bulma followed Vejita wordlessly along through the streets, nodding to people when they bowed and peering half-heartedly into each shop that they passed. She no longer felt the need to stop-- the perfume she had purchased was enough. She clutched the bottle still, yearning to dab some on her pressure points.   
  
Beside her, Vejita observed his people critically. They avoided his eyes and muttered their respects when they passed, but their real attentions were focused on Bulma, who seemed oblivious to anything around her. It was a good thing, too, or else sooner of later it would have gone to her head. They were just entering the area most densely populated by restaurants and cafe's when Chichi and Kakkarott strolled around the corner, hand in hand.  
  
Bulma tucked her bottle of perfume into the folds of her wrap and gestured to them. "It must be so wonderful to be in love like that, don't you think?"  
  
Vejita raised an eyebrow at her impulsive comment. "I wouldn't know. Perhaps you could tell me."  
  
Bulma's eyes widened, then moved down to the diamond on her ring finger. "Not that I don't love my husband. Its just that newlywed sort of thing that I was referring to."  
  
Kakkarott and Chichi began to walk towards them. Vejita suddenly steered them away from the two, blending in expertly with the crowds. Faint calling could be heard from behind them, but soon enough it stopped. Chichi must have talked some sense into her idiot almost-mate, Vejita mused as he half-dragged Bulma along with him. When he was certain that they were out of the others' reach, he stopped and released his hold on her.  
  
"What was that for?" Bulma demanded, looking down at the red marks on her pale skin.  
  
"I'm sick of your bullshit," Vejita said irritably. "Its plain to even the dumbest of people that your mate is an ass incapable of anything approaching compassion. Your lies are beginning to bore me."  
  
Bulma could not believe what she was hearing, even though she knew that it was true. "Excuse me? Yamcha is a faithful, caring man--"  
  
Vejita did not give her a chance to reply. Instead, he motioned for her to shut up and headed for the quickest route out of the city. Soon they had breached the outskirts and were approaching the desert, where the cobbled path continued to an oasis that served as a sort of park. Bulma felt her hands trembling at her called lies.   
  
"My father was just like your bastard husband," he informed her stiffly as they reached their destination. "And Magdalene was just like you-- stupid."  
  
Bulma's eyes narrowed at his remarks. "How dare you--"  
  
Vejita crossed his arms and regarded her seriously. "Both you and I know that Yamcha does not want to sign any treaties here. He came here to pretend to want peace so that he can buy some more time to prepare for war, and he dragged you along to shock us into compliance." At Bulma's incredulous look, he smirked. "How do I know this? Vejita Senior did the same damned thing."  
  
Bulma felt angry and violated that this man had read their intentions so well, like they were an open book ready for his examination. But in a way, she was happy to be relieved of her burden, even if it were at the expense of their mission. Somehow, having somebody else know her situation made it seem like she weren't alone in the world anymore.  
  
"And what am I supposed to do about it?" she hissed, with a glance to be sure that they were alone. "Women do not contradict their husbands, at least not where I'm from. I have no choice, as your mother probably didn't."  
  
Vejita's eyes gleamed strangely. "She had a choice. And she made the right decision."  
  
Bulma caught on to the subtext of his statement and felt her jaw go slack. "She didn't! She couldn't have."  
  
"Humans are weak, cowering creatures," Vejita said. "They dance around the subject and put off what needs to be done. Ask Magdalene-- she'll proudly tell you the whole story."  
  
The thought of killing Yamcha gave Bulma goosebumps. The feel of a knife sliding smoothly into the space between his ribs, the satisfying death rattle and limp feel of her husband's body as she pulled the weapon out of him... Bulma shook her head to clear the sadistic, underlying thoughts that even she had felt occasionally.  
  
"Is there a point to this confrontation?" she asked coolly, surprising herself with her ability to hide her emotions. She had never realized how pathetic she had become.  
  
Vejita struggled to think of the answer to her question, but held back. What was the point of the conversation? He had initiated it with an accomplishment in mind, but what was it? The possibilities frightened the war-hardened man. He hated to admit it, but Magdalene's warnings rang true. This woman was impossible to ignore.   
  
"Its getting late," he stated curtly. "You are scheduled to meet my security council tonight, so there is no point in delaying it any further."  
  
  
  
Bulma could not believe that he was avoiding her simple question, but wisely decided to give in. For some reason, she had been hoping to hear something far different from the enigmatic man.   
  
"Please, lead the way."  
  
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+ A/N +Sorry for the delay in this chapter-- I was away at another horse show this weekend. I have finals this week, so I'm not sure when I'll find the time to write, so I don't know when the next chapter will be out. Thursday maybe? Oh well... Keep a careful eye out and we'll see. Thanks for the patient waiting and wonderful reviews, and special thanks to the author Heartless for plugging me in her fic. It means a lot to me! Until next time, ja ne!  
  
Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
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	10. Part Two: 10

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
  
  
...................................................................................Rhapsody~*  
  
________________________~*Part Two*~: Temptations  
  
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When Bulma returned to the palace, Prince Vejita retreated into the training areas and Queen Magdalene was nowhere to be found, therefore leaving the human queen to her own devices. She, only by sheer luck, found her way back to she and Yamcha's chambers. As soon as she stepped over the threshold, Nataliah descended upon her frantically.  
  
"Your Majesty!" she exclaimed. "What kept you for so long?"  
  
"We spent more time in the city than I had anticipated," Bulma replied tiredly, brushing past the handmaiden and into the bedroom. With a backward glance over her shoulder, she tucked her coveted bottle of perfume in one of the drawers of her vanity, beneath the folds of her clothing and lingerie. When she turned back around, minus the bottle, Nataliah was watching her oddly. "Where is Yamcha?"  
  
"He left soon after you this morning, to train."  
  
Of course. Yamcha never missed an opportunity to show off, not that he was any stronger than the average Saiyan baby. Bulma was just relieved that he was not present to bother her. She gave him two hours before he grew sick of defeat and came back to the room to vent off his frustration.   
  
"Would you mind terribly if I left you alone again?" Bulma asked her handmaiden, who paled at the question. "Being cooped up in this room is terrible, especially when there's so much to see elsewhere."  
  
Nataliah shook her head weakly. "Of course I don't mind, Your Majesty. Its just that... the Saiyans frighten me."  
  
Bulma smiled sympathetically. "Thats only to be expected. Perhaps I should request an escort for you so that you can--"  
  
Nataliah shook her head. "That will not be required, m'lady. I would prefer to stay here."  
  
"So be it then. Would you mind leaving me alone for a moment?"  
  
Nataliah gave her a strange look-- she always assisted her in dressing and the like-- but did not protest to the unusual request. She left the room and wandered out onto the balcony, where Bulma saw her watching the ocean below.  
  
Alone and safe to do what she pleased, Bulma dug up her bottle of perfume and spritzed herself lightly, reveling in the sweet scent that would have driven her mother and Yamcha crazy. Then she tucked the bottle away again and exited the room. With a farewell wave to Nataliah, she left their chambers and started towards the wonderful room that Queen Magdalene had shown her to earlier-- the music room.  
  
The newly posted guards nodded to her and opened the doors readily, with bows in her direction. Bulma ignored them and closed the doors behind her, wishing for privacy. She found herself in the perfect place for that particular desire.   
  
The afternoon sunlight cast the room in a cheery light glow, and the grand piano beckoned to her like an old friend. Bulma obeyed her yearnings and sat down at the instrument, her fingers itching to caress the keys. Completely in her element, she let down the majority of her hair, with the exception of a few pinned strands at the crown of her head, and sighed heavily.   
  
Before starting to play, she gazed out of the picture windows silently, thinking of what it was that she wanted to play. The selection in her memory was by no means extensive, after all. Before she had made a conscious decision, her fingers attached themselves to the keys, and she was playing.  
  
As she played, she did not look down at her hands, but instead kept her eyes on the windows, taking in the warm summer sunlight, the swaying tops of palm trees, and Saiyan buildings on the distant horizon. She didn't even know what it was that she was playing, all she knew was that it was the most natural thing in the world to do.   
  
Meanwhile, Vejita stormed down the hall, frustrated from his brief traning session. Yamcha had still been in the training areas, contaminating the area and irritating him beyond control. At least he still wasn't in Vejita's private gravity room, as before.   
  
He was passing by the music room, on the way back to his chambers, when the unmistakable sounds of a piano being played floated its way to his ears. It wasn't so much the instrument that stopped him, but the tunes that were being played. It was his song, again, doctored up by an expert musician who apparently knew what they were doing. Vejita could think of only one other person besides his mother who knew his song-- Queen Bulma.   
  
The Saiyan Prince motioned for the guards stationed at the doors to leave and paused outside for a moment, listening. The song was changed a little, so that it was more appealing to the ears and lighter on the soul, but there was no doubt what it was. Angry at this almost impossible reaccuring coincidence, Vejita decided to make an appearance at this particular private concert.  
  
His tirade, however, was cut short when he entered the room and spotted the pianist. Bulma started and immediately ceased her playing at the sight of the angry man. She had obviously been caught off-guard and unawares, because her hair was almost completely down and the soft scent of vanilla and flowers hovered in the air. Her wide, trapped blue eyes said it all. His intrusion into her private world was unforgivable.  
  
"What are you doing here?" she asked, moving to get up from her seat at the piano.  
  
  
  
Vejita motioned for her to stay where she was and approached the piano slowly. "Don't stop playing. I want to hear that song again."  
  
Bulma looked confused, but sat down again nonetheless. She placed her fingers on the keys again and began to play the song, though not with the same feeling that had previously. "Its the same song that I looked up in that history book, Vejita-sama. Do you recognize it?"  
  
Vejita thought of denying it, but somehow could not bring himself to. He crossed his arms and eyed the piano like the song had been its doing. "Yes. I do."  
  
Bulma waited for a further explanation, but none was offered. This part of Vejita was still a private one, one that he chose to keep close to himself. Rather than push it further, she dropped the subject and continued to play the song absently, her mind elsewhere. She found it really difficult to concentrate with the intense prince staring at her suspiciously. And especially when she was in such a relaxed state. She was painfully aware of her unbound hair, and itched to twist it up in attempts to save face. What would this fellow monarch think of her now?  
  
Truthfully, Vejita was thinking a lot about her, but not letting it show. She looked completely different with loose hair. Somehow more vulnerable, and much more beautiful, no doubt. Outwardly, he scowled at his treacherous thoughts, but inside, he could not stop himself. The continued playing of his song propelled him still further. There was no more denying it-- the coincidence was just too great, and the girl was far too alluring.   
  
"I know that song because it was assigned to me at birth," he found himself blurting out monotonously. "Up until you hummed it at the beach, Magdalene and I were the only ones who knew of it."  
  
Bulma stopped playing abruptly. "Forgive me, but I don't understand. It was 'assigned' to you?"  
  
Vejita avoided looking into her eyes and instead glared out the window, as if she had forced the information out of him. In a way, though, she had. "Every Saiyan is given a song at birth, and their mate and their parents are the only ones who are supposed to know of the song. In most cases, the song is something children sing to pass the time or whatever, and its extremely odd that a human should know of it. I find it hard to believe that a song such as mine should be printed in a book."  
  
"We don't have any traditions similar to that on Earth," Bulma said, not fully comprehending his explanation. "It would be wonderful if we did, though. I rather like the idea of having something all your own like that."  
  
"Apparently, its not all my own anymore," Vejita replied suspiciously.  
  
A heavy silence hung in the air as both parties pondered the statement. Bulma did not understand what he was trying to tell her, and Vejita was having trouble understanding it himself. So, the woman had read of it in a book-- that was hardly reason to start seriously worrying. Finally, Bulma broke the silence.  
  
"Its a lovely song, really," she said. "Once I saw it for the first time, it just wouldn't go out of my head. I'll stop playing it, if you'd like."  
  
Vejita nodded, his black eyes clouded over with thought.  
  
Bulma looked awkwardly down at her hands, which were still resting on the piano, then pulled them away as if she were ashamed. "Thank you for sharing that with me, Your Highness."  
  
The Saiyan once again nodded, but said nothing. His eyes had drifted over to the window, where he seemed to be watching a pair of birds chase each other playfully through the air. Bulma stood from her seat and started to leave. Before she could get past the piano, though, she was stopped by a heavy hand on her arm. She flinched at the unusual contact and whirled around to face Vejita again. He was now watching her intently.  
  
"Where did you learn that song?" he asked again, his eyes narrowed in warning. "Don't lie to me."  
  
Bulma could do nothing but stare at him in shock. How could he have known? She recoiled away from his touch, thinking that he was some sort of mind-reader. She desperately wanted to hold on to the frightening truth, but found herself opening her mouth to answer his demand.   
  
"In a dream," she admitted softly. "I heard it in a dream."  
  
Vejita stared at her for a moment, taking in her confused expression and pretty blue eyes, and felt the all-too-familar impulse that his mother had warned him about uselessly. Bulma recognized the feral, greedy look in the Saiyan's eyes and began to back away, her fingers clenched onto her wrap in anxiety. Vejita, controlled by his own mindless motives, moved forward after her.  
  
"Leave me alone-- please!" Bulma pleaded with him, shaking her head so that her hair fell around her shoulders, further throwing the prince's logic. "What are you doing?!"  
  
She found herself backed up against the wall of the room, trapped and helpless against the nearly invincible Saiyan. The image of Yamcha, cornering and hitting her like he had so many times before, rose to the surface of her mind and overwhelmed her with fear. She closed her eyes and braced herself for an attack, but one never came.   
  
Vejita was startled out of his trance by the sight of her cowering in obvious fear and helplessness. She looked so pathetic-- her hands clutched to her chest and her head bowed in preparation for what she thought was coming. The sickening smell of fear and sorrow came off of her in waves. Vejita blinked his dark eyes and surveyed the situation as if he were across the room, looking at himself and the human queen.   
  
Bulma cowered before him, turned away from his hand on the wall next to her head, blocking her from escape, and he, blinded by his own animalistic impulses, loomed over her like some sort of crazed psychopath. He let out a shaky breath of frustration, and Bulma's eyes opened slightly in surprise at the absence of action. When she met his eyes, she let out a strangled whimper in desperation.  
  
"Please..." Her voice was as small and weak as he had ever heard it. "Don't..."  
  
The close proximity, the sweet smell of her, and the previous coincidence involving his song was too much to bear any longer. Vejita felt himself smirk a little, then lean in closer to the married woman. He didn't realize what he was doing until their lips met unexpectedly, and Bulma went limp against him. Her hands pressed weakly against his chest, effecting nothing.  
  
Bulma felt her body freeze up when the prince suddenly leaned in to kiss her. She placed her hands in protest against his strong chest, but found that she didn't really want to push him away. Kissing Yamcha had never been like this-- not even her brief romance with Byron had been like this. Perhaps it was the years of frustration and loneliess. Whatever it was, Bulma hardly cared anymore. It was too late. She let her body go limp and did not protest when the Saiyan's hands ventured to her waist and pulled her closer to him. Her arms, in response, wrapped around him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.   
  
Their lips parted for a moment, and they caught their breath. Suprisingly enough, it was Bulma that made the next move. She closed the distance between them and reveled in the comfort of the strong man's embrace.   
  
Vejita was surprised, but was nowhere near willing to break off the encounter. The feel of the human's body against his was better than he had imagined. It was good enough to chase all reasonable thoughts of out his mind-- namely the fact that she was married, a royal guest, and if anyone happened to stroll in, they could be charged with treason and killed. Bulma's lashes fluttered against his cheeks, and he could feel the wetness of her tears against his face.   
  
Then the kiss ended, and they pulled away from each other reluctantly. Bulma's cheeks, in fact, where wet with tears of sorrow or joy-- who knew, and what difference did it make? Their eyes met, and both knew the possible consequences of their actions.   
  
"This should not have happened," Bulma whispered. "If anybody were to find out--"  
  
"They won't." Vejita began backing away from the human. "I have been detained for too long. I have to return to my training."  
  
Bulma watched as he turned to leave, then glanced out the window at the sunny skies. "If Yamcha gets wind of this..."  
  
Vejita paused with his back to her. She was voicing the very things that had crossed his mind just now. His stubborn pride, however, would not allow him to turn so that she could see the indecision on his face. "Act like it never happened. Erase it from your mind."  
  
"Can it be done that easily?"  
  
Vejita knew very well that neither one would be likely to forget. "Its going to have to be, isn't it? You and Yamcha will be introduced to my security council tonight at dinner. We'll discuss this later."  
  
Bulma watched him leave, her heart heavy in her chest. What had they done?  
  
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"Where have you been?"  
  
Bulma closed the doors of their chambers behind her and turned to face her seething husband. He was lounging on the couch, holding a telltale glass of bold Saiyan champagne in one hand. Nataliah was nowhere to be seen. Yamcha followed her searching gaze and frowned.  
  
"The girl is in our room, doing her job," he snapped. "She's selecting your dress for the dinner tonight."  
  
Bulma hoped that her flushed cheeks and hastily adjusted wrap wouldn't give her away. "I was in the city with the prince and one of the elite warriors, Kakkarott."  
  
"Is that so? With that bastard, Vejita?" Yamcha clearly did not approve. "Without the presence of another female?"  
  
Bulma realized her mistake, but it was too late. "Things are done differently here, Yamcha-- you must understand--"  
  
"I will not understand!" Yamcha's glass shattered against the far wall in his fit of anger.   
  
Bulma flinched and braced herself for a blow. Her husband approached her, his brown eyes searching for a discreet area in which to conceal a bruise. Finally, his gaze came to rest on her thin waistline, and soon enough Bulma was doubled over in excrutiating pain.   
  
"You are never to act so foolishly again," Yamcha said, stepping away from her and brushing himself off. "Now hurry your lazy ass up and get ready."  
  
Bulma did not move until he had left the room, then allowed herself a moan of pain. Nataliah scurried out of the bedroom, where she had undoubtedly been hiding, to tend to her queen, accustomed to performing this kind of impromptu first aid. She grabbed some ice from the bucket that had held Yamcha's champagne and pressed it to the other woman's waist carefully.  
  
"It will bruise, I'm afraid," she informed softly. "At least he took care to hide the wound."  
  
Bulma, thinking of the happiness she had felt earlier with the Saiyan Prince, frowned. "Sometimes I wonder if it would be better for someone to see, even if it meant that I be punished along with Yamcha."  
  
Nataliah shook her head. "He would not be punished, m'lady. Who is there to punish a king?"  
  
Bulma choked on helpless tears. "What has happened to me?" she asked faintly. "I am not this person-- this woman who allows her husband to abuse her!"  
  
Nataliah fought off her own sympathetic tears. "You may not be, but what choice do you have? You are a woman, Your Majesty-- you have no options."  
  
Bulma thought of Magdalene years ago, in her same position, and the murderous decision that had ended her pain. "But we do. We just may not be ready to live with the consequences."  
  
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Magdalene watched her son pace the length of her chambers, muttering to himself like some sort of schizophrenic.   
  
She was dressed already in a wrap made of deep emerald silk and embroidered with gold beads and braiding along the hems. Her thick black hair was controlled by an elaborate braid and many jeweled pins. Her son, however, though dressed in the traditional Saiyan battle armor, was nowhere near ready to go to the dinner. He had showered with extra soap-- so much that Magdalene's nostrils burned with the spicy scent. She wondered what he was trying to hide and why he was trying to hide it. Vejita, oblivious to her scruntity, paced on.  
  
"What in the world is bothering you?" Magdalene finally demanded. "You're acting like your father, Kami forbid."  
  
"Are you going to kill me then, too?" Vejita snarled back cruelly.   
  
Magdalene should have been insulted, but she knew better. "Something is clearly bothering you, so I will let that one slide."  
  
  
  
Vejita scowled and stopped pacing abruptly. "Why the hell are we wasting our time negotiating with these people if they're just pulling a scam? If I were in charge of this, I would have killed them a long time ago." This was a lie and he knew it, but he chose to keep the information to himself.  
  
Magdalene was not at all sure that this was what her son was so stressed about, but chose to go along with it. "We must act as if they aren't pretending, for the sake of diplomacy. Being the ruler of an empire is not all blood and glory, Vejita, but also diplomacy and elaborated lies."  
  
Vejita crossed his arms but said nothing. His black eyes smoldered, and Magdalene prayed that his temper would hold out until after the introductory dinner.   
  
"I know that you think its all bullshit, but then again so did your father, and look at how his reign turned out."  
  
Vejita turned away from her and glared out of one of her windows at the palace gardens, where he had first gotten the chance to talk to Bulma. He had turned away because he was afraid that his calculating mother would look into his eyes and see everything. He knew that what he and Bulma had done could mean the end of both their empires, and he knew that he was much smarter than to put all of that at risk just because of his physical needs. But he also knew that of all the women he had consorted with, none had cast such a lasting sensation as Bulma. And none had known nor cared about his song.   
  
"I will stop bothering you, Vejia, but only because I know that you aren't and never will be like your father," Magdalene said, coming up behind him to rest a hand on his muscular arm. "I just get scared sometimes. You can hardly blame me, though. I've witnessed an entire reign go to hell because of a man's selfish impulses and thoughtless mistakes. I know better than to expect the same you."  
  
Vejita's gaze remained fixed out the window, and for once his cold heart felt bitter regret for what he had done. If only Magdalene knew.  
  
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+ A/N +Hello, once again. FF.net was giving me some major problems when I was trying to update this stupid chapter, so I apologize for the delay. Damn them... Ja ne for now...  
  
Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
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	11. Part Two: 11

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
  
  
...................................................................................Rhapsody~*  
  
________________________~*Part Two*~: Temptations  
  
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Bulma winced as Nataliah eased the cerulean-blue wrap over her injured waistline and gently smoothed it down to a perfect fit. The bruise was painful, but not the worst she had sustained by a considerable margin, so she gritted her teeth and did not comment on her pain. Doing such came so easily to her now.  
  
"M'lady..." Nataliah breathed. "The color is breathtaking, and it matches your eyes beautifully."  
  
Bulma stepped over to her mirror. Her reflection stared back dully. She looked good, yes, but did not feel it. "Yamcha will be pleased."  
  
"And you aren't?"  
  
"He wants to impress Prince Vejita's security council with my looks rather than his intellect," Bulma responded bitterly, fingering her dangling silver earrings. "Which is asking for failure, if you know anything about foreign policy."  
  
"Is the purpose of this trip truly to maintain peace?" Nataliah asked.  
  
Bulma's eyes wandered over to the dresser that contained her perfume, and she wondered if Yamcha would notice her wearing it. It depended on the strength of the liquor provided, she supposed. "Of course not. But he could at least put some effort into pretending that it is." Her mind was made up-- the perfume beckoned to her. "Excuse me for a moment please, Nataliah."  
  
The handmaiden, who was far too well trained to ask questions, ducked her head and obeyed.  
  
The human woman lunged at the drawer eagerly and sprayed the heavenly scent onto her body. The smell of the stuff brought her back to that afternoon, when she had been secured in Prince Vejita's strong arms. Bulma quickly steered herself away from such dangerous thoughts and hastily returned the bottle back to its hiding place. Rather than call Nataliah back into the room, which now reeked of the stuff, she exited the room and went to her. It wasn't as if she weren't wearing enough makeup already.  
  
Nataliah, who was going to accompany Bulma to the dinner, as was proper, smiled in greeting. She wore a simple beige wrap, designed not to take any attention away from her queen. Bulma wished that she could trade places with the girl for this night.  
  
"Are you ready, Your Majesty?" she asked.  
  
Bulma briefly thought of saying no and feigning a fainting spell, but something stopped her.  
  
"Of course," she replied.  
  
The queen dismissed the possibility that Prince Vejita was her reason for attending.  
  
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"You wouldn't believe the natives on this planet, Your Majesty," Radditz continued in his condescending, what-pathetic-simpletons way. He seemed to have forgotten that he, too, used to be a lower-classed citizen. "I was ready for them to start chasing us with pitchforks or-- or homemade firecrackers or something."  
  
Magdalene smiled tightly as Radditz, ever the loud-mouth, guffawed over the audacity of it all. She loved the boy like a nephew, but his ego had inflated to rival even her son's as of late. And the wine he was currently 'getting a little taste of' did not help at all. The other members of the security council-- Radditz's father Bardock, brother Kakkarott, Vejita's childhood bodyguard Nappa, and finally the sullen Turles-- tried not to let Radditz catch wind of their annoyance.  
  
"So the leader approaches us and says 'Please-- spare our lives! We mean your empire no harm!' and Turles goes 'You're doing it harm by opening your mouth!' and the man is just speechless," Radditz pressed on. "He died with that pathetic look on his face. And right after, Nappa goes 'So that's why they say not to make sour expressions-- your face really will get stuck that way!'"  
  
Only Nappa laughed along with Radditz. Vejita, at the head of the table, glowered.   
  
"What's the matter, Vejita-sama?" Nappa asked. "You were there, and you laughed pretty good."  
  
"Nappa," Bardock, ever the mediator, scolded. "There are times when you and Radditz's brainless comments are inappropriate, and this is one of them."  
  
"Alright-- Dad," Nappa grumbled.  
  
This earned chuckles from not only Radditz, but from Turles also. The usually stone-faced Saiyan could not help himself.  
  
"Would you all just shut the fuck up for a second?!" Vejita snarled suddenly. The table went silent. "I don't know about the rest of you idiots, but I am here to conduct an introductory meeting, not happy hour!"  
  
Magdalene could not help but smile with pride at her son's coldness. He had known these men for all his life, and normally would have gladly joined in on the fun, but when it mattered most, he was able to conduct business in their presence. "Vejita is quite right. Perhaps you should be discussing the matter at hand rather than mocking your latest purging victims, Kami bless their souls."  
  
"Kami?" Turles muttered. "More like Satan, considering where we sent them."  
  
No one laughed this time, because Vejita's black eyes flashed red in anger.  
  
"What, exactly, are your goals for this meeting tonight?" Bardock asked Vejita, after shooting a black look in both Turles' and Radditz's direction.  
  
"I want to indimidate, but not enough to make the bastard feel like he's in over his head," Vejita replied, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "I want him to feel like he can win, so that when his plan fails, it will be all the more amusing."  
  
"Yeah, and then we can take his woman!" Nappa exclaimed crudely. His Saiyan comrades joined him in his loud, rude laughter.  
  
Magdalene chose this point to intervene. "That will be quite enough of that, Nappa."  
  
Vejita scowled. "There you go again, attaching yourself to the latest victim." Inside, he congratulated himself on hs cover. If this was Magdalene 'attaching herself', then what the hell was he doing?  
  
"She cannot help that her husband is a monster," Magdalene said, with a careful glance at the door. "In case none of you remember, I myself was in her rather frightening position some years ago."  
  
"Humans are so stupid," Turles commented. "Since they do not have life-mates, they assume that they have the privelege of abusing any other bitch that comes along."  
  
Bardock sighed. "We are not here to discuss the ethics of the human race."   
  
"For once, the old man is right," Vejita said. "Who gives a shit?"  
  
Kakkarott spoke up for the first time. "I care-- Bulma is really nice."  
  
"Address royalty in a more respectful manner," Bardock corrected him sternly.   
  
"But she told me that I could call her by her first name," Kakkarott protested. "She did!"  
  
Radditz narrowed his eyes. "You're a liar!" he accused. "What woman in her right mind would go for you?"  
  
Kakkarott was about to reply when the doors of the room opened and the human monarchs of Earth were announced. Silence fell upon the room as Yamcha entered, pulling Bulma along like an accessory. Behind them, a timid handmaiden followed.   
  
Vejita, though he had been trying his damnest not to, met Bulma's eyes. Judging by their wide, vulnerable appearance, something had gone wrong. Try as he might, the prince could not help but wonder what it was. It was Bulma who looked away first, however. Yamcha scowled and yanked her forward, so that she was closer to him.  
  
"I am King Yamcha, and this is my wife, Bulma," Yamcha announced with an oily grin. "On behalf of me and my people, good evening to all of you."  
  
"Welcome," Magdalene responded before her clearly agitated son could put his two cents in. "Please, take your seats."  
  
Bulma felt the queen's eyes on her, prying, as well as those of the rest of the security council. She tried not to meet any of their glances as she took her seat between Yamcha and Magdalene. She was painfully aware of Vejita's strong presence directly across from her. Nataliah stood behind her chair, ready to do her lady's bidding.  
  
Vejita did not look too excited to be in this situation, either. He was frowning as if this event were nothing but an inconvienance. "Now that we're all gathered together like a happy family, introductions are in order." Bulma noticed the disapproving look cast by Magdalene to her son and could help but feel amused. "The bald fool next to me is Nappa, and the angry bastard beside him is Turles." The two burly men did not seem fazed in the least by the surly introductions. "You've already met Kakkarott. Beside him is his father, Bardock, and his brother Radditz." Then his menacing onyx glare focused in on Yamcha, who fidgeted a little in his chair. "They may look stupid, but even they know better than to fall for anyone's bullshit."  
  
Bulma felt their (with the exception of Kakkarott and his seemingly level-headed father) glares honing in on she and her husband, and knew that Vejita was not making empty threats. It was becoming apparent that they were in way above their heads, and it was certainly too late to turn back now. "Its a pleasure to meet all of you," she managed, when Yamcha said nothing. "My husband and I look forward to conducting business with you."  
  
The sullen man Vejita had called Turles elbowed Radditz, who grinned broadly. Bulma was shocked to notice a gleaming gloden tooth obstructing his smile. "The pleasure will be all ours, Your Majesty."  
  
"Ignore Radditz," Magdalene advised with a fond smile. "He cannot help that he's an idiot."  
  
Bulma watched, mystified, as the Saiyans laughed together as if they were old friends sharing a cherished inside joke. Back on Earth, she and Yamcha had never had a friendship with the people they worked with, no matter how long they had known each other. It was frowned upon, and considered to be too 'relaxed' for world leaders. Yet here the Saiyans were, interacting in a matter that family would. Beside her, Yamcha appeared to be equally puzzled.  
  
Only Vejita did not laugh. Instead, he watched Bulma as she glanced around, clearly confused at their relaxed manner. But it was not just confusion in her eyes-- it was also jealousy, and a desperation to be included. She looked as if she were a child, starving for the love of her elders.   
  
Then, unexpectedly, she turned and met his gaze. The electricity that had generated between them earlier returned, and a becoming blush spread over Bulma's nose and cheeks. Vejita found comfort in the fact that she, too, hadn't been able to forget their kiss. It was not pleasant to hold the secret alone. Then Yamcha whispered something to her, adn the eye contact was broken.  
  
"Now, that will be quite enough of that please," Magdalene called out over the raised voices of the Saiyan men. "We don't want our guests to feel left out."  
  
"Left out?" Radditz repeated. "Do you think that they want a piece of this?"  
  
"Can it, Radditz," Vejita snapped. "You seem to have forgotten the purpose of this meeting."  
  
Kakkarott grinned. "Yes-- dinner! I heard tha there was food involved."  
  
"You heard correctly," Magdalene informed him. She then signaled to a nearby servant, who bowed and left, apparently to find food. "I apologize for making you wait."  
  
Yamcha made an attempt to smile. "Its all right. Now, isn't some negotiating supposed to be going on?"  
  
Bardock leaned forward and shot Vejita a look. "Let us not rush into things," he advised. "This dinner is supposed to be a means for us to find common ground, not a way for us to rush hastily into such an important matter."  
  
"I fail to see the point in delaying," Yamcha argued. "Amendments can always be made later."  
  
Bulma averted her eeys down to her clasped hands, which rested in her lap. Yamcha was making fast work of pretending to want peace. At this rate, war would be declared by the second meeting. She thought of Byron and Maylene back on Earth, and all of the other innocent people who had been adversely affected by her husband, and found that she did not have the stomach to allow him to do it again. "Kakkarott-- that woman that you left with earlier, I can't seem to recall her name. What was it?"  
  
All eyes turned first to Bulma, then to Kakkarott, who blushed like a schoolboy. "Chichi. Her name was Chichi."  
  
Bulma nodded. "I remember now. Its people like Chichi that we have to keep in mind here. We aren't here to determine our futures alone, but also those of our subjects-- the innocent people who depend on us to make their world a better place to raise their children and live out their lives. Monarchs change, but the people do not. They point of leadership is to bring about peace for everyone while you can, not to wage needless war for th selfish causes that don't even apply to them."  
  
Magdalene smirked at the shocked reactions of her fellow Saiyans. "Well spoken, dear. You are quite right. When it comes down to it, our subjects are all that we have."  
  
  
  
Bardock nodded in agreement. "I can say from firsthand experience that her words are true. Citizens don't care about how diplomatically their leaders handled a trade deal. They just want it done quickly, and done well."  
  
"You should be grateful to whoever suggested that you bring your wife along," Magdalene said to Yamcha, who did not appear to be too pleased with Bulma taking his spotlight. "She may prove to be a valuable asset to our plans."  
  
Yamcha forced a smile at his fellow leaders. "I'll make a note to do that."  
  
The doors of the room opened, and the spicy smell of Saiyan cooking floated over to the people. Heaping plates were set by the men, and even Bulma and Magdalene.   
  
Bulma stared down at her food for two reasons. The first was because on Earth, spicy food was never enjoyed by the first class-- it was considered to be food fit for the few who possessed what the nobles snobbily dubbed 'gall', but in fact was courage and spunk, something that they themselves could never fathom. And the second reason had to do with the huge helpings that were on her plate. Ladies on Earth were never allowed to eat more than a few mouthfuls of food, lest they ruin their impossibly tiny waistlines.  
  
Yamcha looked taken aback as well. He pushed his food around the plate like he had forgotten how to eat. Bulma could feel his eyes shift to her every once in a while, as if he were warning her not to eat either.   
  
Then, solely because Yamcha did not want her to, Bulma picked up her fork and began to eat. She was surprised to discover that she had never tasted better. Her husband followed suit, though he did not look especially excited about it.  
  
"You'll like dessert best of all," Magdalene assured them with a knowing smile. "Saiyan chocolate is well... you have to eat it to believe it."  
  
"That's for sure!" Kakkarott exclaimed with his mouth full of food.  
  
Bulma glanced around at the Saiyans, puzzled. They wolfed down their food with the manners of those from third class, with the exception of Prince Vejita. He did not seem hungry. He instead glared at Yamcha, as if plotting all the ways he could snap hisneck. He must have felt her eyes on him, because his gaze shifted from her husband to her.   
  
Bulma's skin prickled with goosebumps as he held the eye contact with an expertly emotionless face. Bulma wondered what he was planning on doing about their earlier encounter. Had he forgotten her already? Yamcha sighed beside her, and Bulma realized how silly that was-- she was a married woman, not a schoolgirl with a crush.  
  
"I've been thinking of how played that piano so beautifully, m'lady," Magdalene started as she pushed her plate aside. "Do you play anything else?"  
  
Yamcha stiffened up beside her, and Bulma's heart sank at Magdalene's grave mistake. The bruise on her side throbbed, a sickening reminder of what might be coming to her later.  
  
"No," she replied blandly. "I do not."  
  
"So," Yamcha said to his wife, his voice dangerously easy and cheerful. "When did you get a chance to play?"  
  
Bulma felt her throat constrict in fear. Fear-- of her own husband! "They have the most beautiful piano you'd ever hope to see here, Yamcha--"  
  
"That's interesting," he cut her off. "I had always thought the Saiyans to be music-illererate."  
  
Queen Magdalene's eyes flashed at the insult, and the rest of the table fell silent. "Most of us may be, but we can certainly recognize a talent when it arises, Your Majesty."  
  
Yamcha chuckled and leaned back in his seat. "Thats ridiculous, Your Majesty. Bulma can't play a piano any more tan she can train."  
  
"An area that you have no right to brag about," Vejita pointed out with a smirk at his comrades. "We have babies that are stronger than you are."  
  
"Have you even heard her play?" Magdalene asked Yamcha.   
  
Yamcha glowered. "Of course not. On Earth, music is hardly an acceptable thing for a lady to do."  
  
"Its a good thing that we're not on Earth then, isn't it?" Magdalene said crisply. Her voice indicated that she was putting an end to the conversation.  
  
Bulma was completely silent in her seat. Her face had gone pale and emotionless, and her lips were set in a thin, tight line. "Yes," she said. "It is."  
  
The people at the table watched as she stood, threw down her napkin, and exited the room, her beautiful cerulean wrap fanning behind her like the waves of the sea. Nataliah looked confused at first, then ran after her lady.   
  
Yamcha shrugged nonchalantly. "Women-- who knows why they do such things?" He then sipped at his wine, clearly finished with the issue.  
  
Magdalene narrowed her emerald eyes at the human king. It wasn't until now that she realized her mistake in mentioning Bulma's music.  
  
"Your Majesty," she began sternly. "I would appreciate it if you would not go after your wife. She looks as if she needs some time to herself."  
  
"I wasn't planning on it," he responded coolly.  
  
Across the table, Vejita fought an internal battle against himself. After seeing Bulma flee from the room, he had gotten the unexplainable urge to go after her. Maybe it was because of how wonderful their earlier kiss had been, or perhaps it was how good she looked in her sheer, oceanic dress. Either way, he could not-- and would not-- go after her. Undoubtedly it would appear suspicious, and that was something that Vejita certainly did not need. And besides, Bulma's silly handmaiden was undoubtedly capable of handling such things. But then again, she would be easy to dismiss, as all servants were, and then Vejita could have the woman alone--  
  
"Hey, Vejita-sama," Turles said under his breath from beside him. "Is it just me, or is that human woman extremely hot?"  
  
The comment from anyone else would have sent Vejita growling, but this quiet, moody man had always been the one whom Vejita had felt most at ease with, with the exception of Kakkarott. "She's a weakling," he replied. "And clearly mated."  
  
Turles nodded. "Yes, Your Highness, but very easy on the eyes. How did a pussy like that end up with her?"  
  
Vejita had wondered the same thing himself. "Arranged marriage. Or she might have been forced or bribed. What difference does it make?" He was now getting uncomfortable with the subject, and his eyes kept on shifting over to the door in spite of himself.  
  
Turles shrugged, then turned to Radditz, probably to spring the same conversation onto him. Vejita was glad for the distraction.  
  
Down the table, Magdalene, Yamcha, and Bardock were heatedly discussing international trade, while Turles, Radditz, and Nappa whispered about Bulma. Kakkarott seemed completely absorbed in eating his food, and swiping what he could from his unsuspecting brother's plate.  
  
If Vejita were to leave now, nobody would notice. Especially if he used the Instant Transmission trick that he had grudgingly picked up from Kakkarott a few years ago. The Saiyan Prince glanced around the table once more, going over his options. Yet, he found it impossible to concentrate on anything besides the thought of Bulma's slender body pressed up against his, until he could almost smell the intoxicating scent of her... Before he realized it, he had come to a decision.  
  
Kakkarott, who had looked up from his delicious dinner just in time to see Vejita disappear, was the only one to notice. While he might have seemed to be thick, even he could take a reasonable stab at where the prince was going, and knew that it was wrong.   
  
Glancing around, he knew that everyone else was too distracted to notice, so he did something that was quite out of character. Kakkarott pressed two fingers to his forehead and transmitted to a place where he could safely observe his prince.  
  
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"I am dreadfully sorry, m'lady," Nataliah said helplessly. "They did not train me on what to do in this sort of situation."  
  
Bulma, who was leaning against the wall a short distance away from the meeting room, could not help but smile at her handmaiden's innocent ignorance. "That's alright. I do not require your assistance now, anyway. Perhaps it would be best if you returned to the dinner. Tell them that I went for a walk and am quite well."  
  
Nataliah curtsied. "Very well."  
  
The Queen watched Nataliah leave and sighed heavily. She did not blame Magdalene for telling Yamcha about the piano, of course, but it still weighed on her mind. It was a burden that was beginning to be too heavy for Bulma to carry. She dreaded the end of the dinner, when she would have to return to her chambers with Yamcha and face his merciless wrath.   
  
The woman turned her back to the meeting room and continued walking down the halls, in a sort of trance. Her hand trailed against the palace walls absently, as if to guide her along the way. She was not aware that she was being followed until she came upon an intersection of two seemingly identical hallways. She paused, unsure of what to do next.  
  
"Walk to the right," her follower advised. "The left will take you back around to the meeting room."  
  
Bulma recognized the accented voice of Prince Vejita and felt her heart skip a beat. "And if I walk to the right?"  
  
The man came up behind her, close enough so that Bulma could make out his throaty chuckle. "You'll see."  
  
Bulma took the advice and turned right. Vejita remained a few steps behind her, though she could feel his eyes on her back. She desperately wished to know what he was thinking. "What are you doing here?" she asked quietly. "Your presence at the dinner is essential, is it not?"  
  
Vejita snorted from behind her. "Only if I decide that it is."  
  
Bulma was unsure of how to respond to that, so she remained silent and kept on walking until the hallway began to get increasingly more luxurious, and the black marble floors became covered by a thick red carpet. She hadn't been shown to this part of the palace before, she was sure of it, which could only mean one thing. She stopped in her tracks in realization.  
  
"My chambers are up ahead," Vejita informed her, as if reading her thoughts. He then came up beside her, his muscled arms crossed. "Which leaves you with several options."  
  
Bulma averted her eyes to her feet. She knew that what she was close to doing was horribly, dangerously wrong, but a part of her didn't care anymore. "Yes," she acknowledged. "But how-- and what if..."  
  
Vejita regarded her with an assured arrogance. "No one would dare to come here, not even Magdalene."  
  
  
  
It was then that Bulma fully knew that she and this prince were on the same page. And oddly enough, she trusted his word. "Alright then."  
  
Now it was she who followed, right up to the doors of Prince Vejita's chambers.  
  
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Kakkarott watched from his position behind a set of heavy velvet curtains as Bulma and Vejita entered his chambers together, then turned away in shock.  
  
Not only did they barely know each other, but Bulma was married, and their planets were at the brink of war! Even the simple-minded Kakkarott could understand that. The consequences of their actions were beyond comprehension and unthinkable. Such a thing, as Kakkarott could recall, had never happened before.   
  
  
  
But another thing that Kakkarott understood was the concept of love. He felt much the same sensation when he was around Chichi, though he spent half the time trying to convince himself that it wasn't so. But to endanger two entire planets-- that was foolhardy.  
  
The confused Saiyan stepped back from the curtains and out into the hallway. His mind was torn between two options-- he could either keep the secret to himself, or tell somebody. But who? Magdalene?   
  
Kakkarott knew enough not to make hasty decisions, so he used his Instant Transmission to take him back to the meeting room. He would think about this later.  
  
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Prince Vejita's chambers seemed out of place in the middle of this lavishly decorated palace, Bulma observed when she stepped through the door.   
  
The colors of the room-- black, red, and gold-- matched everything else in the palace, but weren't hidden or crowded up with countless paintings or tapestries-- just the occasional picture of the ocean, the desert, a war scene, nothing spectacular. His room dwarfed even hers and Yamcha's in size. The main room was enormous, and held some couches and chairs, as well as a balcony that looked like it reached out over the cliffs bordering the ocean. There were several other doors leading into other rooms, all of which were closed.  
  
Vejita immediately crossed the room to the balcony, where he stopped at the railing. For a minute, it had looked like he was going to keep on walking, right off the balcony. Bulma would not have put it past him, but trotted forward in alarm nonetheless. Before she got there, he hoisted himself effortlessly up to sit on the railing.  
  
She came to stand at the railing beside him, and found herself breathless with the beautiful view. They were a considerable distance higher up than any other balcony she had ever stood on, and were provided with a spectacular view of the angry waves crashing up against the jutting cliffs that the palace was built on. The balcony also gave them a picturesque view of the sunset, which cast a blood red glow over everything below, and a tamer orange on the balcony itself. Bulma savored the feeling of the warm breeze caressing her face and tousling her hair. If she could have, she would remain here, taking in the view, forever.  
  
"I guessed that you might like that," Vejita said with a smirk.   
  
Bulma tore her eyes away from the ocean for a moment to look at her companion. "Then you were planning this, before I ran out of the meeting room."  
  
"No," he replied. "I did not have to plan, I just knew. I was there when you were down by the ocean, remember? You would have to be a fool not to see that you enjoyed herself."  
  
The woman stepped away from the railing now, the spell that the view had cast upon her broken. "I shouldn't be here."  
  
Vejita narrowed his eyes. "Its too late now."  
  
"What is that supposed to mean?" Bulma asked suspiciously. "You kissed me. That is hardly grounds for me to leap into a silly affair."  
  
"An affair?" Vejita snorted at the term. "Its only an affair if you stay the night."  
  
"What else did you bring me here for?" Bulma demanded, feeling heady with her newfound confidence. "I hardly believe that you wished to share the view with me."  
  
"You're right," he agreed, sliding off the balcony to stand on secure ground. "I didn't."  
  
"Stop playing games with me," Bulma protested. "What do you want from me then?"  
  
Vejita's frown slowly curled into a smirk that made Bulma feel weak in the knees. He approached her slowly, and she waited for him, heart racing in anticipation. She loved how he seemed to behave like a predator stalking prey. As his hands encircled her waist, she thought that she definitely did not mind being caught. In fact, it was ranking up to be one of the best experiences of her life.   
  
Vejita's hands came to rest on her waist, caressing as if he were trying to memorize the feel of her. Then he came into contact with her bruise, and she cried out in pain. The Saiyan stopped his ministrations and took a closer look at her injury. Bulma winced in pain and frustration that Yamcha managed to ruin this for her, too, then in the heat of the moment, she thought of something.  
  
"He did this to you, didn't he?" Vejita demanded. "The stupid bastard."  
  
Bulma grabbed his hands and placed them on the straps of her dress. Her blue eyes lifted up to meet his black ones intensely, and a playful smile tugged at her lips. The sight of her was breathtaking. "Perhaps you should take a closer look."  
  
Vejita's eyes darkened with understanding. Wordlessly he began backing her over to the couch that loomed in the corner of the balcony, taking his time as he unfastened her ocean-colored wrap. "Maybe I should..."  
  
Bulma allowed him to slide her wrap off of her body and lower her down onto the couch. Her body felt like it was on fire, a sensation that Yamcha had never been able to duplicate. The married woman felt sexy for the first time in her life, instead of just used, and grinned contentedly because of it. She reached back to let down her hair, even though this was not her husband, and giggled as the breeze blew it around her face.   
  
All thoughts of her husband and the meeting that they were missing disappeared from her mind as she let the Saiyan Prince show her what she had been missing in her life since she had voiced that fateful 'I do'.  
  
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+ A/N +I think that ff.net is out to get me. Honestly, every time I wanna update, something goes wrong and they won't let me! Its getting really frustrating. Anyway, sry bout the long wait. It was out of my hands this time. And a note to Stef-chan-- here I went again, updating while you were gone! I'm gonna be in big trouble when you read this, I bet. LOL! Well anyway, expect the next update in a few days, as usual. Ja ne, and please remember to review and let me know what you thought!  
  
Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
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	12. Part Three: 12

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
  
  
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________________________~*Part Three*~: Diplomacy  
  
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It wasn't until dessert was served and conversation had died down that anyone noticed the empty chairs in their midst. Bulma's absence was completely understandable, of course, but both Kakkarott and Prince Vejita were absent also, without explanation. Magdalene noticed first, and discreetly brought it to Bardock's attention.  
  
"Vejita and Kakkarott most likely stepped out to escape boredom, Your Majesty," the older man replied. "It is not like either one of them to miss such an important event."  
  
"You are right, of course," Magdalene said. But really, she wasn't so sure. Call it her sixth sense, but something about this was not quite right-- she could feel it. "I shall have to talk some sense into my son when, and if, he returns."  
  
Yamcha picked up on her displeasure. "Is something wrong?"  
  
Magdalene tried to smile. "Of course not. Enjoy your chocolate, Your Highness, please."  
  
Just then Kakkarott came through the door as inconspicuously as possible and took his seat. He fell silent, and did not smile, which was not at all normal.  
  
"Where have you been?" Magdalene asked. "And what of Vejita?"  
  
Kakkarott made an attempt to grin and act normally. It did not work. "Well, you see, we decided to step out for a minute. Vejita seemed to be pretty stressed out. We were going to come back inside, but then he decided that he would take a walk alone. So... I came back."  
  
Neither Magdalene nor Bardock believed this poorly delivered story, but hid it well.   
  
  
  
"That explains it then," Bardock said, avoiding his son's eyes. "Let us eat."  
  
It wasn't until Magdalene searched for her son's ki, only to discover that he was suppressing it, that she knew something was fundamentally wrong.  
  
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Vejita moved from his position on th couch beside the sleeping form of Queen Bulma and moved over to the railing of his balcony.   
  
Since they had first come out here, the sun had set and the stars and moon had come out to cast their eerie silver glow upon them. Below, the waves had calmed to a gentle pace, and lapped against the shore as if to further soothe the human woman to sleep.   
  
There was no doubt that she needed it-- and not only because of their passionate lovemaking, either. Vejita doubted if she had ever been able to sleep in peace for her whole life. Judging by her deep sleep, she was making up for it now. Vejita did not mind. He would not have known what to say to her anyways.  
  
The Saiyan Prince then leaned closer to the railing, where he could watch her from a safe distance. She was curled up in his cloak, positioned so that her breasts and waistline were covered, which must have come from years of experience. What you could see of her was more than enough, anyway.   
  
The pale moonlight accentuated her white skin and delicate features, and it was hard to tell if she was real or simply a trick of the moonlight. Either way, she was the most beautiful thing Vejita had ever layed eyes on. She was the very image of every man's fantasies, yet married to the most undeserving man alive. Vejita found it screamingly ironic that the one woman worthy of his attentions was taken by his enemy. And the timing of the affair could not have been worse.   
  
Vejita's jaw clenched in frustration as Bulma stirred a bit, revealing some more of her smooth skin and adopting a more relaxed expression. If he had had the option, he would have stormed into the meeting room at that moment and killed Yamcha.   
  
He was not a passive man-- he usually fought for what he wanted, and won. But not this time. His hands were tied, and there was no winning for either of them. The prince glared out across the ocean, remembering how happy and at ease Bulma had been when he had taken her down there. Once she left the planet, it was more than likely that she would never enjoy herself like that again. He knew that he shouldn't have cared, but the thought of her being ripped from him and dying an unhappy, abused woman set his blood boiling.  
  
This was how Bulma found him upon awakening-- angry and brooding at the railing of the balcony. She had been sleeping long enough for him to get dressed and organized again, also. That should have worried her, but it did not. When she was with him, she could not help but brush these negative thoughts aside.  
  
The queen wrapped herself in his cloak and crossed the balcony over to him silently. He said nothing as she approached and embraced him comfortably.  
  
"What are you thinking about?" she asked, her voice muffled against his broad chest.  
  
"The many ways that I could inflict pain onto your bastard husband."  
  
Bulma pulled away from him, her expression serious. "If you did that, there would be a war for sure."  
  
"There's going going to be one anyway," was the curt reply. "Why put things off?"  
  
Yamcha's plans weighed heavily on Bulma's mind. "He never wanted peace," she admitted quietly. "He planned to use this trip as a means to give him more time to prepare for a war. He's gathering up all of the manpower and technology that our planet posseses."  
  
Vejita frowned deeply. "You could be arrested for treason for telling me that, woman."  
  
Bulma's blue eyes glazed over. "I know. I could be arrested for being with you, also. Even killed."  
  
"That horny son of a bitch wouldn't kill you."  
  
Bulma was not so sure. "If he were to find out, he would go mad with jealousy, and there would be no telling what he would do. Besides, living with the consequences would be much worse than death."  
  
"You don't seem to give a damn," Vejita commented.  
  
"I have been living my entire life under the rule of those who wished to use me to acheive their own selfish dreams!" Bulma burst out suddenly. "I am sick of being his whore! I no longer care what happens-- just so long as I am allowed to enjoy myself for a few moments, at least." Her blue eyes shone brightly with emotion. "Not a single thing that I had always wanted for myself has come true. For once, I would like to feel what its like to acheive at least one dream. Just one."  
  
Vejita studied the woman next to him. He could not imagine what it would be like, living in a cage such as hers. "So that means that sleeping with the strongest man in the universe was not one of your dreams?"  
  
Bulma coudl not help but smile through her oncoming tears. "Happiness seems so easy to come by here," she said. "You are extremely lucky to live in a place like this."  
  
Vejita's black eyes grew steely. "You could have all of this too, woman."  
  
Bulma's eyes widened, and she took a few steps away from him. "Do not make insinuations like that. Its dangerous, and I just might be tempted enough to do it."  
  
"Would that be so fucking bad?" was Vejita's challenging reply.   
  
Bulma moved over to collect her wrap and shoes. She began to dress herself quickly. "We must get back to the dinner," she said, her words contradicting her true desires. "They are going to wonder about our whereabouts."  
  
Vejita watched her dress, silent until she had finished and was attempting to resecure her hair. "Return first, and tell them that you got lost."  
  
Bulma finished readjusting her hair and looked at him worriedly. "And what about you?"  
  
"I'll return when I am ready."  
  
The human woman nodded, then wrapped her arms around herself uncertainly. When she looked back up at Vejita, her eyes were wet with tears. "Thank you," she muttered. "For helping me to forget... things." When she did not receive a reply, she managed a smile and turned to leave, her head down.  
  
"You're welcome," Vejita finally responded, almost inaudibly.   
  
Their eyes met, and they both knew that they would encounter each other again.  
  
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Bulma closed the doors of Vejita's chambers slowly, and paused before walking on. It was hard to believe what they had just done, but at the same time, it seemed like the realest thing she had ever experienced.   
  
She began to walk again, slowly, dreading every step that took her closer to the dinner and Yamcha. Remembering the way that Vejita's warm, muscular body had felt against hers, and the mutual, carefree emotion that took her over whenever she was with him, she was half tempted to run back and never leave again. But that was not possible-- she was a married woman. Her finger suddenly felt heavy with the diamond wedding ring that adorned it. If she had been with Vejita, she might have been tempted to rip it off and cast it into the sea, which was precisely why she had left. What they were doing was extremely dangerous, and that was something that she must never let herself forget.  
  
"Never again," she muttered as she neared the fork in the hallway where Vejita had caught up with her. Even as she spoke the words, however, seh knew that they weren't true. Adultery was like alcohol-- addicting.   
  
The doors of the meeting room loomed near, so Bulma slowed her steps. She dreaded having to lie to everyone, most of all Yamcha (for obvious reasons) and Magdalene. The Saiyan woman might be able to see right through her, and the mere possibility of that made Bulma weak in the knees.   
  
She stopped in her tracks and leaned up against the wall to gain her composure. She could just barely make out the sounds of the Saiyans' and Yamcha's laughing coming from the room down the hall. She reached up to adjust her hair and pinched her cheeks to make them pink. It would not help her to look disheveled at all.   
  
As she was struggling to take deep breaths, her thoughts strayed to her mother and her whereabouts. In appreciation for her harsh upbringing of Bulma, Yamcha had probably stationed her in the most luxurious suite the palace had. She was probably soaking in her bath there now, thinking of how getting rid of Bulma's father and marrying off her only daughter had payed off. Bulma hoped to Kami that the ornery old hag drowned.  
  
Her composure gained and hair fixed, Bulma was ready to make her appearance. She lifted her chin, mustering up whatever courage she could, and crossed the hall to the meeting room. The guards stationed there bowed and opened the doors smoothly. Bulma entered slowly, cautiously, as if someone might jump out and attack her.  
  
The people in the room looked up when she entered, their chocolate-covered forks poised in mid-air. As she took her seat across from Vejita's vacant chair and beside Yamcha, she could feel Magdalene's steady gaze, evaluating.   
  
"What took you so long?" Yamcha asked, more than a little perturbed and clearly reluctant to show it. "You've missed almost the entire dinner."  
  
Bulma turned to him and smiled stiffly. "I was walking the halls, and I got lost. A passing maid was kind enough to give me directions back. Besides, what use is a lady in political matters?"  
  
Yamcha was shocked at her sarcastic response, but covered it well. "True. The same however, cannot be said about Prince Vejita. Where the hell is he?"  
  
Magdalene shot a glare at the doors. "When Vejita makes up his mind not to do something, it stays that way." She leaned back in her chair and sipped her wine worriedly. "Besides, this dinner's purpose was to introduce only. The real work starts tomorrow."  
  
"The queen is quite right," Bardock assured him. "There is no forcing Prince Vejita to do anything."  
  
Yamcha was clearly displeased at the Saiyan's negligence, and overlooking his own. "Whatever you say. Let us hope that this never happens again."  
  
Magdalene nodded, but her eyes were on Bulma, accusing but not sure.  
  
Bulma truly did hope that it never happened again.  
  
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Down the table, Kakkarott listened in on their conversation. It was clear that both Magdalene and his father did not believe his false alibi, nor the one he had concocted for Vejita. At least they would never suspect the truth, he thought.  
  
The image of Bulma and his prince entering the Prince's chambers together would forever be burned into his mind, and the secret would no doubt haunt him for as long as he kept it. Yet, he could not deny that the match made sense. Bulma was the most beautiful woman anyone could remember meeting, and trapped in a marriage that held her like a prisoner, and Vejita was the boldest, strongest man he knew. If anyone was capable of setting Bulma free, it was him. And the way they looked together-- flawless. Kakkarott could not even imagine what a powerful pair of monarchs they would make. It would be the best thing to happen to both planets.  
  
But then there was Yamcha, and the law. Adultery was considering a capital crime, and on some planets punishable by death or a lifetime in somebody's dungeon. Neither one of those fates seemed suitable for Bulma. Kakkarott sighed heavily at the burden that had been set on his shoulders.  
  
"Its about time," Turles commented from beside him, shattering his thoughts.   
  
Vejita entered the room leisurely, as if everyone else was at fault instead of him. Kakkarott looked closely, and concluded that the prince's actions during the past hour or so were nearly undetectable. In spite of this, Magdalene still seemed suspicious-- and rightly so.  
  
"Did you enjoy yourself?" she asked coolly as her son took his seat.   
  
  
  
Vejita smirked and met her gaze equally coldly. "Of course. Where's my dessert?"  
  
"Nonexistent, along with the progress of this meeting," Yamcha snapped.  
  
Vejita raised an eyebrow. "I must be mistaken-- wasn't the purpose of this dinner to make introductions, not war plans?"  
  
Bulma inhaled sharply at Vejita's bold mentioning of Yamcha's obvious intentions. Yamcha narrowed his eyes at both his wife and the Saiyan man. "Who said anything about war?"  
  
Vejita recovered quickly. "Nobody had to. If you were truly interested in peace, you wouldn't be so wired up all of the time, nor would you have bothered to waste your time in coming here."  
  
Yamcha was about to make a hot reply when Magdalene cut him off abruptly. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, there is not point in dragging this meeting out any further. I hope to see you all tomorrow evening, at the first meeting."  
  
The Saiyans stood, clearly relieved, with the exception of Magdalene and Vejita, who remained seated. Slowly, the guests filtered out of the room. Bardock stayed behind, his lips set in a tight line.  
  
"You are compromising the treaty with your quick temper, Vejita-sama," he snapped.  
  
Vejita's expression turned to one of sincere malice. "I'll be the judge of that, third-class."  
  
Bardock blinked, stunned, at the out-of-line insult. "Forgive me, my prince."  
  
Vejita glared as he left the room, leaving he and Magdalene alone. The queen dismissed the servants and then took Bulma's seat across from her son. The soft smell of the woman's perfume still lingered. Vejita waited for his lecture.  
  
"Both you and I know that Yamcha wants war," she began evenly. "We have already established that, and decided that we could handle it. Now, I know that you aren't set off to the point of jeopardizing diplomacy easily. Would you mind telling me what you were doing while you were gone?"  
  
"Did you not hear Kakkarott?" her son snapped.  
  
Magdalene crossed her arms. "Then share with me why you're being so defensive."  
  
Vejita considered for a moment. "No," he finally said.  
  
The Saiyan Queen nodded. She hadn't expected him to. She stood and smoothed down her dress. "Come to me when you're ready to tell the truth, hm?" She then exited the room.  
  
Vejita leaned further back into his chair and massaged his throbbing temples. At this rate, they were doomed.  
  
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Yamcha remained silent and seemingly content until they reached their chambers. Then all hell broke loose.  
  
"You sneaky, lying whore!" he accused, shoving Bulma to the floor violently and without warning. "What did you and that asshole do? What?!"  
  
Bulma could only cover her face with her arms as Yamcha delivered a savage kick to her ribs. "What are you talking about?" she exclaimed between attacks. "I was not with him! I give you my word!"  
  
Yamcha stepped back reluctantly, with a glance across the room where Nataliah was watching with a pale face. "I suppose you're telling the truth. Women aren't capable of making a good lie, especially the ones like you. But nevertheless, you deserve a good beating for your comments at the dinner! I'll talk and you sit and look pretty, got it?" He then threw in another swift kick for good measure.  
  
"I understand," Bulma insisted, hiding her face so that Yamcha could not see her tears. "Please-- stop."  
  
Her husband studied her for a moment, then grinned broadly. "Here we are again-- me dominate, and you cowering like a good bitch. Its a vicious cycle, isn't it?" He brushed himself off, still grinning like a fool. "I am going to take a shower, and then retire. I am going to expect you to be ready for me when I get out." He turned and headed for the bathroom, then stopped in the doorway. "Wear something black or red, Bulma. You know how that gets me going."  
  
Bulma resisted the urge to vomit until the bathroom door had safely closed behind her husband. Then she crouched down and threw up the wonderful Saiyan dinner she had consumed. Her bruised ribs and torso felt like they were on fire as they protested the movements.   
  
  
  
From across the room, Nataliah rushed over to assist her lady. As her handmaiden cleaned her sweaty, pale face, Bulma began to sob.  
  
"It wasn't supposed to be this way," she whispered, remembering the day she had muttered the same words to Maylene, so long ago it seemed. "I don't want to do it-- I don't want to sleep with him again."  
  
"I understand, m'lady," Nataliah soothed as she mopped up Bulma's face.  
  
Bulma knew that she didn't. How could she? She had never been beaten and violated by her own husband, and she had never slept wth Prince Vejita. No one could ever understand. And no one could stop it.   
  
The queen attempted to stand, but even the simple movement was too much for her. The tears came again, steadier. Nataliah helped her to stand, and led her to the bed, where Bulma collapsed, her azure eyes staring blankly ahead, like those of a doll's. Or a corpse's.  
  
"He said black or red, did he not?" Nataliah asked as she searched through Bulma's lingerie. When she received no reply, she hurried to her lady's side. "You must have courage, my lady. Its only one night."  
  
Blma did not respond because it wasn't just one night. It was the rest of her life.  
  
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The next morning found Yamcha training on the other side of the palace, which gave Bulma the opprotunity to tend to her wounds, which had been made worse by the forceful lovemaking that Yamcha had subjected her to the previous night. Nataliah, sensing her queen's pain, was eager to do her bidding.  
  
"Draw me a bath, please," Bulma instructed her as she examined her torso for more wounds. "A hot soak would do me good, don't you think?"  
  
Nataliah nodded, then disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of running water could soon be heard, and steam floated from the room as a result of the warm water.   
  
"Thank you," Bulma called. Then she wrapped a robe around her naked body and went to the balcony. It was much too early for many people to be on the water, even by Saiyan standards, so she stepped out. The crisp smell of the sea relaxed her, at least mentally. And the warm summer weather helped, also.  
  
At that moment, she would have done just about anything to have this balmy planet as her home. The girl sighed and followed the white-tipped waves with her eyes, dreaming of what could have been.  
  
Nataliah cut her fantasies short. "Your bath is ready, m'lady."  
  
"Thank you," Bulma said, turning back to enter the chambers. "I will not require your assistance at the moment. You may do as you please."  
  
Nataliah curtsied gratefully. "Thank you. If you should need me, I'll be napping in my room."  
  
Bulma nodded and entered the bathroom, sore all over. As she stripped down, she noticed how obvious the purple bruises were against her white skin and winced. It would take Nataliah at least an hour to successfully cover them up. She then grabbed a jar of potpurri and sprinkled it across the surface of the water. The flowery mixture sizzled and emitted fragrant bath oil and rose petals into the warm water. Bulma then watched as a filmy layer formed over the surface of the water, and stepped in.  
  
Her pain felt temporarily cured when she settled down into the bath, and she closed her eyes in relaxation. There was nothing better than a soothing bath, in her opinion. She was so lost in her relaxated state that she failed to notice the open bathroom door. If she had, she might not have even cared. Who would be so bold as to enter a monarch's private chamber? Eventually, the sweet smell of the potpurri and the comforting sensation of the water lulled the human to sleep.  
  
Meanwhile, out on the balcony, a man landed with practiced ease. He surveyed his surroundings quickly, then moved across the balcony to the doors.   
  
Nobody was in plain view, but he already knew the whereabouts of King Yamcha anyway. The idiot handmaiden however, could have been anywhere. Then he caught sight of the telltale steam coming from the bathroom and decided that the handmaiden was not a large problem.   
  
Silently and smoothly, he crept closer to the room, all the while keeping an eye out for the maid who could ruin everything.   
  
In the tub, Bulma awakened and opened her eyes groggily. To wake herself up, she splashed some of the scented water onto her face. Outside the door, she heard soft footsteps. Assuming it was Nataliah, she stood, exposing the back of her naked body, and motioned to a garment hanging nearby.  
  
"My robe, please," she instructed, backing out of the tub so the 'handmaiden' could slip it on.   
  
The hands that came with the robe, however, were not Nataliah's. Bulma's eyes widened in alarm and she nearly screamed before her mouth was covered with a smooth motion of the man's hand. She was then whirled around to face the intruder, who turned to be none other than Prince Vejita himself. When he saw her recognition, he removed his hand from her over her mouth and motioned for her to speak quietly.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Bulma whispered, not sure of how to respond. "Yamcha or Nataliah could walk in at any moment!"  
  
"Yamcha is sparring with Kakkarott, who was the only man tolerant enough to go easy on him," Vejita responded. "And as for your handmaiden, who gives a shit? She's disposable."  
  
Bulma raised an eyebrow at his assumption. "Oh really? Then its a good thing I dismissed her so that she could nap." She then went to don her robe, but Vejita stopped her.  
  
The Saiyan Prince knew that Yamcha hit his wife, but was never certain of the extent until now. Bulma's torso was dotted with dark purple and blue bruises, as well as her inner thighs (Vejita cringed at their obvious cause) and on her wrists. There was even a developing mark on her left cheekbone. The mere sight of them made him want to hunt Yamcha down.  
  
Bulma followed his gaze and allowed him to look passively, almost ashamed of her 'battle scars'. The truth hurt-- quite literally.  
  
"He suspects that we were together last night," she said gravely, shrugging on her robe. "And I suspect that Magdalene does as well."  
  
Vejita scowled. "She wouldn't dare to cross me unless she was absolutely sure."  
  
"And Yamcha can be easily made to forget." Bulma's dark eyes told the whole story of her terrible night. "When he's rutting on me, he forgets everything else." Before Vejita could reply, she spoke again. "Why are you here, really?"  
  
The Saiyan smirked in a way that suggested that he had something up his sleeve. And he did. "Would you like to see the ocean again?"  
  
Bulma's heart swelled with pleasure and excitement. "Yes," she replied with a broad smile. "But what of Nataliah and Yamcha?"  
  
Vejita did not seem concerned. "What about them?"  
  
Bulma was about to explain, but Vejita stopped her.  
  
"Worry about the fools later," the prince brushed off, already exiting the bathroom.   
  
As she followed him, Bulma began to feel the same carefree sensation. He was right-- she would have plenty of time to worry later.  
  
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+ A/N +Sorry about the long wait. I've been very, very busy for the last week or so. Seriously, I don't even have time to breathe anymore, let alone write a nice long chapter. Special thanks to Sorceress Fujin, fallenangelx, Stef-chan, Evil Karyta, and Darkina for your extra support and praise. You guys are the best! You'll never know how much it means to me that you take extra time and effort to offer your comments on the story. And a note to everyone else-- my screen name is down there for a reason! I love to chat, so feel free to IM me sometime. I don't have anything else to say, so until the next chapter...  
  
Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
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Sorceress Fujin, Fallenangelx (fereya wa kawaii), stef-chan, and evil karyta, darkina 


	13. Part Three: 13

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
  
  
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________________________~*Part Three*~: Diplomacy  
  
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Nataliah was awakened from her pleasant dreams of her home back in Russia by the sound of the salty breeze opening and closing her bedroom door.   
  
The handmaiden, adapted to taking such short naps, was instantly awake and alert. She slid off the bed and crossed the room to see if perhaps Bulma needed anything. The first odd thing that she noticed was the lack of steam coming from the bathroom and the strange silence that was quite unusual.   
  
Worried that her mistress had somehow drowned, the handmaiden rusehd to the room, only to find the tub drained and the room empty. When she exited the room, she noticed the second odd thing-- the doors leading to the balcony were ajar. Thinking that maybe the sea-loving queen had gone out to look at the water, Nataliah proceeded forward onto the balcony. But the woman was nowhere to be found.   
  
Bewildered (after all, if Yamcha returned to find his wife missing, the blame would be placed on her!), the handmaiden walked to the railing. It was no secret that Bulma had always entertained the idea of taking her own life, but ending it in such a messy way hardly seemed her style. Nevertheless, Nataliah mustered up her courage and looked down.   
  
At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. That is, until the girl looked to the coastline, where her mistress could be found. Nataliah gasped in horror at what she was seeing.   
  
Bulma shed her robe and entered the turquoise water, her body exposed and hair free to float on the surface behind her. But what was even more alarming was the company she was in. The human queen grinned in a way that Nataliah had never seen before as she allowed herself to be held close to the chest of the Saiyan Prince Vejita. What was even more scandalous than the affair itself was how perfect and happy they looked together.   
  
Prince Vejita pulled away first and beckoned for his companion to venture further away from the coastline with him. Bulma hesitated, then began to swim slowly out after him. If she had not known these people, Nataliah's romantic's heart would have warmed right over at the sight. Her queen had found love in the oddest place imaginable-- in the arms of her husband's enemy.  
  
Nataliah could only bear to watch one more kiss, one more honest embrace and playful splash before she had to turn away. Her conformed, closed mind struggled to fully grasp the situation and decision at hand.   
  
  
  
What Bulma was doing was clearly dangerous, but her duty first and foremost was to be loyal to her queen. To what extent, however, she did not know.  
  
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When Bulma returned to her room an hour later, aided by Vejita's flying abilities, the chambers were thankfully empty.   
  
The queen snuck past Nataliah's locked room like a teenager past curfew, though she had never done it herself. Once in the bathroom, she stepped into the shower to wash off the smell of the sea and the layer of salt that encrusted her hair. As she cleaned herself up, she hummed, more contented than she had been in a long time.   
  
When she exited the bathroom, still singing under her breath, she found her handmaiden waiting for her.   
  
"Hello Nataliah," Bulma greeted pleasantly. "How was your nap?"  
  
Nataliah seemed to still be tired. Her face was pale and drawn. "It was nice, m'lady."  
  
Bulma studied the girl closer, her cerulean eyes concerned. "Perhaps you should rest a bit more," she suggested. "You look like a zombie, if you forgive my saying so."  
  
"Queen Magdalene has requested your presence," Nataliah said, ignoring Bulma's advice as politely as she could. Her lack of sleep was turning out to be the least of their problems. "She expects you in a half an hour, out in the gardens."  
  
Bulma's heart skipped a beat. Did the wise woman know what had been happening right under her nose, when nobody was looking? With shaking fingers, she motioned for Nataliah to assist her in dressing. "Thank you for relaying the message."  
  
As Nataliah followed her lady to her dressing room, she could not help but hope that Queen Magdalene would expose the affair, therefore saving her the trouble.  
  
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Magdalene arrived at the gardens first, so that she would have time to think in peace for a bit.   
  
There were several reasons why she had called Bulma to meet with her today. First of all, the queen wished to simply enjoy the girl's company and lift her spirits a bit. Seeing her beautiful face was a perfect way to brighten up even the dreariest of days.   
  
And secondly, she had a more important matter to discuss. She had witnessed Yamcha's angry and resentful reaction to Bulma's speaking out at the previous night's dinner, and knew for certain that she had had to face the consequences soon after. Her own husband had been the same way. If Bulma wanted to get out of this in one piece, without remaining completely silent, arrangements would have to be made. The queen clearly had a natural political ability that should not be wasted.   
  
And third-- Magdalene wanted to at least inquire about what had happened during Bulma's absence at the dinner. Bulma had come back with a totally different aura, and a new hairdo, which was an extremely odd detail indeed. Why would Bulma need to let her hair down if she were merely going for a walk? And why had Vejita been hiding his ki signature? Magdalene wasn't trying to jump to conclusions, but it was easy enough to put two and two together and get 'danger'.  
  
When Bulma came around the corner, Magdalene was waiting for her. As usual, the human queen was dressed to the nine's in a rose-petal pink wrap and carefully wrapped and braided hair. The kind of beauty that that girl possessed could hold the power to demand the respect of millions, which was probably why Yamcha had married her.   
  
"Good morning, Your Majesty," Bulma greeted pleasantly. "I am sorry to have kept you waiting-- I came as quickly as I could."  
  
"You look lovely this morning," Magdalene complimented. "It is too bad that you did not meet my son sooner in life. You would have made a magnificent queen of Vejitasei."  
  
Bulma blushed a little, for more than one reason. "Thank you. How are you this morning, Your Majesty?"  
  
Magdalene smiled humorously. "Oh-- same shit different day, as Vejita would so charmingly phrase it. And enough with your formalities. From now on, I am Magdalene, and you are Bulma. How does that sound?"  
  
Bulma did not know how to respond to the outgoing queen's outlandish idea. But she did know that it was something that she could get used to. "Wonderful-- it sounds wonderful."  
  
"Alright then," Magdalene replied. "Let us move on, both literally and figuratively. Follow me, if you would."  
  
"Where are we going?" Bulma asked as she followed the Saiyan woman deeper into the maze-like gardens.   
  
"Not to look at flowers, to be sure," Magdalene scoffed. "I love roses, no mistake, but if everyone tells me that a lady's time should be constantly spent among them, let me assure you, I will do just the opposite to spite them. We are going to watch my son, your husband, and some of the other men spar. After that, we'll have a nice little chat over tea. This is merely a shortcut to the training facility."  
  
  
  
Bulma's heart raced. How would she and Vejita conceal their doings from his keen mother? "Do you suppose that its safe?" she asked, hoping that the queen would change her mind. "I understand that Saiyans train with their ki's, and that it can get unruly sometimes."  
  
"Nonsense!" Magdalene exclaimed. "That might happen with inexperienced fighters, but my son is the strongest man in Saiyan history, and possibly the universe. Everything is very controlled."  
  
Bulma tried not appear disappointed. "Then this is a rare opprotunity indeed."  
  
Magdalene led her through the garden paths to a set of large doors on the side of the palace. She knocked on the door once, and the doors were opened smoothly and without delay to reveal the training facility, or at least part of it.   
  
The vast room before her was unlike anything Bulma had seen before. What they were seeing was actually only a small division of the facility, unaided by gravity gauges. On the main, padded floor, the men, including Prince Vejita, Kakkarott, Nappa, Raditz and Yamcha warmed up. The walls were surrounded by mirrors so that the warriors could see their actions.  
  
"Good morning, boys," Magdalene greeted as they approached the men. "Do you mind if we watch?"  
  
Vejita eyed the vulnerable Yamcha, then glanced at Bulma impassively. Bulma was relieved that he could act so effortlessly. "No, as long as you don't mind witnessing the human getting murdered."  
  
Nappa and Raditz guffawed at the ballsy comment, then shut up when Magdalene and Bulma did not join them.  
  
"Sometimes I wish that I had given birth to a girlchild," Magdalene said, throwing up her hands. "Come along Bulma-- I am going to pretend that you are my child instead."  
  
Bulma smiled and followed Magdalene up a set of stairs that led to the balcony-type area designated for spectators who wanted a clear view of the fight and a safe place to watch. The human queen took a seat next to Magdalene, who seemed a bit worried.  
  
  
  
"I'm afraid that my son might do something drastic," she confided. "And no offense intended, but your husband has no place in this. He can't even fly, for goodness' sake!"  
  
"Perhaps not," Bulma allowed, watching her husband through steely eyes. "But he'll just have to learn the hard way. It is the only way to teach him."  
  
Below them, the men finished agreeing on rules and, with the exception of Yamcha, began powering up with a flash of multi-colored light. Bulma's husband was soon lost in the glow of the stronger men's ki's, and was clearly not happy about it.   
  
Nappa and Raditz seemed especially pleased with his confusion and began to flash their ki's in order to blind him. Prince Vejita did not have to do this-- his glowing yellow ki was enough on its own. Bulma could not tear her eyes way from his Super-Saiyan transformation, which was even legendary to the fighters on Earth. Kakkarott seemed torn between stopping them and staying passive. It was Magdalene who finally put an end to the madness.  
  
"Enough, you two!" she ordered, her voice somehow carrying over the smug laughter of the two Saiyan men. "We came to watch sparring, not your rendition of fireflies during mating season!"  
  
Nappa had the decency to look ashamed of himself, while Radditz did not. He looked as if he might burst holding back his laughter. Prince Vejita, who had powered down upon his mother's orders, slapped him on the back of the head, and then he shut up. Kakkarott looked ashamed that they were related. Bulma could hardly blame him.  
  
"How about this," Magdalene began. She moved out of her chair and started down the stairs to the main level. Bulma followed quietly, avoiding Vejita's eyes as they honed in on her. "You all can spar without ki's, you know-- hand to hand. That way, Bulma and I can watch, and King Ymahca over there can compete."  
  
Kakkarott grinned. "All right! I haven't boxed in a long time."  
  
  
  
Vejita smirked and moved to get some tape for his knuckles, while Nappa and Radditz pouted. Yamcha looked infuriated at being babied like a weakling, though that was what he was. Magdalene stood out of the way, near a mirrored wall, and watched the men prepare themselves. Bulma moved beside her.  
  
"You all act so strangely, if you'll forgive my saying so" she commented, watching Vejita joke around with his Saiyan companions. "Like a big family. So informal."  
  
Magdalene nodded. "Its such a shame that all these restrictions are placed on the nobles and royals these days, especially on planets like yours. Thats why I choose to live here, where its not so uptight, and one can escape from protocol."  
  
"It is a pleasant change," Bulma agreed. "Its too bad that this trip is for diplomatic reasons. I would love to come here on vacation."  
  
"Then you must," Magdalene enthused. "Soon. I would be delighted to have you."  
  
Bulma did not mention that it would be highly unlikely that that would ever come to pass. Especially if their planets went to war, which was looking like the probable course of action.  
  
In the middle of the room, the men finished preparing themselves and stepped back to the walls beside Bulma and Magdalene until only Kakkarott and Vejita (the two most closely matched fighters) were left in the middle. Yamcha purposely positioned himself right next to Bulma, who, after being with Vejita, felt sick at his touch. It was getting much harder to fake now.  
  
"I've got a hundred on Vejita," Nappa proposed to Radditz. "Your soft brother has no chance."  
  
Radditz shook his head. "Vejita is technically stronger, but Kakkarott's got the willpower. Vejita's cocky as hell, and that affects his fighting."  
  
"We'll see," Nappa allowed doubtfully.   
  
The two fighters began to circle each other, each harboring totally different combat styles. Kakkarott grinned and seemed to be in a more defensive position, while Vejita's arrogant half-smile and ready fists made him look like a winner already.   
  
Not surprisingly, it was Vejita who threw the first punch, directly into Kakkarott's gut. The other Saiyan wavered a little, then recovered, no worse for wear. Vejita attacked again, this time receiving a response. Soon the two were lost in a flurry of quick blows.  
  
Bulma watched Vejita's swift movements raptly. Beneath his tanned skin, corded and sculpted muscles constricted periodically, a sight that she found extremely difficult to tear her eyes from. The little part of her that was growing more independent secretly wished that the Saiyan Prince would go after her husband and show him real fighting.  
  
"This is ridiculous," Yamcha complained as the two men assaulted each other. It was clear even to him that he didn't stand a chance. "There is no referee, no rules, no nothing! Its unfair."  
  
Nappa chuckled. "This way, only the strongest and swiftest win."  
  
"Are you getting cold feet, human?" Radditz taunted.  
  
"Of course not," Yamcha lied. "I was just pointing out how easy it would be to cheat."  
  
A concept that you commonly make use of, Bulma thought to herself. "Who do you fight first?" she asked softly.   
  
Yamcha seemed to notice her for the first time. "Nappa."  
  
Bulma looked over to the 6'5", burly man and then to her more conservatively built husband, and felt her stomach drop. They were about to witness a massacre.  
  
Out on the floor, Vejita nearly had Kakkarott cornered. He was smirking, and by the gleam in his eye it was apparent that he knew he had won the fight already. And sure enough, in one fluid motion, he unbalanced Kakkarott and landed the winning blow, which set the other warrior back on his hindquarters.  
  
"Whew!" Kakkarott exclaimed. "That was great. I haven't fought without ki for a long time."  
  
"Neither have I," Vejita said smugly. "Once again, it is obvious who is stronger."  
  
Kakkarott got to his feet and smiled good-naturedly. "Wait until next time, Vejita-sama-- next time."  
  
Nappa, after collecting his bet money from a grimacing Radditz, moved out to the floor. "Come and get me, human scum!" he coaxed, cracking his knuckles and neck. "I'm ready to clean the floor with your ass!"  
  
Yamcha reluctantly moved out to face the larger Saiyan, sweating already. "I'm ready."  
  
Before the words had even left his mouth, Nappa charged and pinned the weaker man to the floor, delivering swift hits to his face and chest. Radditz cackled at the sight, as well as Vejita, who had come to stand some ten feet from Bulma. She was painfully aware of his presence, and hoped that Magdalene would not notice.  
  
"This is terrible," the Saiyan Queen remarked as Nappa continued to pummel Yamcha mercilessly. "The fight is already won-- what is the point in dragging it out?"  
  
"Please don't end it now," Bulma insisted. "It would be far worse on him if you did. He would be so humiliated."  
  
Magdalene sighed. "This should get interesting, then."  
  
Much to Bulma's mortification, Vejita approached them. Magdalene smiled at her son, who did not return the favor. "If it weren't so pathetic, this could be considered first-rate entertainment," he commented. "Its too bad that I don't get to have a turn."  
  
  
  
Magdalene rolled her green eyes. "How gruesome. I wish that Nappa would end it already."  
  
"I think that the bastard had this coming," Vejita countered, with a sideways glance at Bulma. "Perhaps it will discourage him from wasting space and energy in the training facility while he's here."  
  
Finally, Nappa exclaimed his victory and got off of Yamcha, who winced as he tried to sit upright. Kakkarott, always compassionate, moved to help him. Bulma knew not to approach him and increase his embarassment. Magdalene nudged her when Yamcha was safely on his feet.  
  
"We shall leave now," she said. "I think I've had quite enough of this. I have had tea arranged for us out in the gardens. We can have a nice little chat."  
  
"That sounds lovely," she said, following the queen out of the room. Before closing the door behind her, Bulma glanced over her shoulder, to lock eyes with Vejita. A wordless understanding of how risky the situation had been passed between them, adn then Bulma looked away.  
  
"I normally don't indulge in things so cliche like tea," Magdalene confided when they stepped back into the gardens. "But I guess you bring out the lady in me."  
  
"Is that good or bad?"  
  
Magdalene considered. "Good in this case. Its good for me to get in touch with my hoity-toity side every once in a while. At least, thats what they tell me."  
  
Bulma frowned. "Having a chat over tea is the most adventurous thing that I am allowed to do. Especially when its outside-- tan skin is acceptable only in the second and third class."  
  
"So that's why you are so pale," Magdalene responded. "Though, on you, the look is lovely."  
  
"Thank you," Bulma said. No matter what Magdalene said, she still hated her transluscent complexion.  
  
They reached a courtyard in the gardens, and Magdalene stopped. In the middle of the open area, a small table set up with a pot of tea, small pieces of bread in an attractive dish, and two sets of china stood. Magdalene took a seat gestured for Bulma to do the same. Bulma, who had engaged in a chat over tea countless times in her life, was in her element. Across the table, Magdalene watched the human with bright green eyes, unique to her amongst her dark-eyed fellow Saiyans.   
  
"I had wanted to discuss last night's dinner with you," she began casually, pouring herself a cup of the tea.   
  
Bulma feared the worst and braced herself for it. "What about it?"  
  
Magdalene's expression grew serious. "I'll get right to the point. I know that your husband punished you for voicing your opinion, and that it was an experience that you do not want to repeat. This cannot be allowed-- your opinion will prove to be vital in preventing war, I think. Special... arrangements are going to have to be made."  
  
Bulma knew that there was no point in arguing Magdalene's correct statement. "Such as?"  
  
"You and I, or perhaps you and Vejita, will have to meet on the side so that your views can be taken into account," Magdalene suggested. "That way, we can bring up your ideas at meetings."  
  
Bulma was doubtful, but the excuse to spend valid time with Vejita was tempting enough to compell her to do some negotiating. "I wouldn't want to waste your valuable time," she said. "I'm sure that you have better uses for your day."  
  
Magdalene could not disagree. "Then I shall arrange to have Vejita meet you somewhere. He will inform you of the time and place when we decide."  
  
"I appreciate this," Bulma told her sincerely. "Its a miracle that you would be willing to even put up with me."  
  
Magdalene found the perfect opprotunity to bring up Bulma's unexplained absence. "Speaking of things I won't put up with-- I'll have no more of you being gone during meetings. You have to be there in order to tell me your opinion. What kept you for so long?"  
  
Bulma was shocked and unsettled at the woman's quick transition, and even more alarmed at her question. It was just as she had suspected-- Magdalene was suspicious. "I told you-- I went for a walk to cool off, and I got lost."  
  
Magdalene raised an arched black brow. "And, by any chance, did you run into my son while you were gone?"  
  
"No, I did not," Bulma lied. "Why do you ask?"  
  
"No reason," Magdalene responded. She then chose to back off about it. Perhaps her son could be more easily prodded. If she pressured Bulma now, she would quite likely lose her trust completely. "It is just unlike Vejita to walk away from such an urgent affair."  
  
"I see," Bulma said, inwardly relieved that the queen was not pushing any farther. "I wish that I could say the same for my husband."  
  
"To each his own," Magdalene said with a knowing smile. "My husband was much the same. But let us not dwell on the depressing subjects. Tell me, what do you like most about Vejitasei so far?"  
  
Your son, Bulma thought to herself. "Everything-- the ocean, the palace, the city, the piano, the magnolia trees, casual lifestyle-- shall I go on?"  
  
Magdalene laughed. "I am glad to hear that! But some of those things could be easily acquired on Earth, you know."  
  
"The ocean is polluted, the lifestyle stiff, piano banned from women... Everything here is kept from me on Earth," Bulma said, her tone bitter. "I am even limited when it comes to chocolate."  
  
Magdalene reached across the table to pat the young woman's arm affectionately. "I can remedy at least part of that. Tonight, I shall have a batch of our finest chocolate sent to you personally. And feel free to use the piano whenever you desire."  
  
Bulma smiled. "I won't be able to fit into any of my clothes by the time we leave!" she exclaimed.  
  
"Don't worry about that." Magdalene eyed the girl's slender figure. "You could afford to gain the weight."  
  
Bulma rolled her blue eyes and said nothing. She knew that it was true.   
  
"Magdalene!"  
  
Both ladies started at the shout, which eminated from Vejita, who stormed into the peaceful courtyard with Nappa and Radditz at his side. Magdalene sighed heavily, as if this happened all the time.  
  
"I am your mother, Vejita," she said, exasperated. "Will you never acknowledge or respect that?"  
  
Vejita ignored her and pressed on. "The damned gravity chamber malfunctioned again and that pathetic excuse of a technician is gone! Where the hell is he?"  
  
"How did you manage to break it this time?" Magdalene questioned. "I know for a fact that only a direct blow to the control panel can break that machine."  
  
"He smashed Kakkarott's head into it, Magdalene," Radditz interjected. "It was one hell of a fight! Its too bad that you guys left early."  
  
Bulma was partially amused at the warriors comment, but also sorry that it had been Kakkarott and not her husband. "Will Kakkarott be alright?" she asked.  
  
Nappa shrugged. "He remembers his name, at least. He had some trouble with the date, though..."  
  
"The idiot always has trouble with the date, Nappa," Vejita growled.   
  
Magdalene shook her head at her son's callousness. "The technician is somewhere along the northern coast," she responded. "He took a well-deserved vacation."  
  
"A vacation?!" Vejita demanded. "What the fuck am I supposed to do now-- meditate?"  
  
"You might try partaking in something else rather than fighting all the time," Magdalene suggested. She then turned to Bulma. "Since my son clearly cannot go on with life without training, I suppose I'll have to track down a good technician. Do you mind?"  
  
Bulma shook her head. "Not at all."   
  
"Good then," the other queen said as she stood up from the table. "Vejita, come with me, and Nappa and Radditz can escort Bulma back to her chambers."  
  
Bulma met Vejita's eyes once before he left with Magdalene, and knew that he would catch up with her later. Especially now that they had a supported excuse.  
  
"Always left out," Radditz complained. "Come along then, m'lady."  
  
Bulma smiled at his awkwardness and followed them out of the courtyard and back to the palace, where the oceanic view (and hopefully a batch of chocolates) awaited her.  
  
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+ A/N +There really isn't a reason for me to apologize for the late chapter, since it was out of my hands this time around. The chapter has been done for days, but since its the Fourth of July weekend, I've been attending (not to mention hosting) a gazillion parties and dinners. And besides that, my computer crashed and my best friend appointed me to help her with her interior decorating ambitions. Geez, can a girl get a moment to breathe, please?! Well, I've got to get back to the fireworks... Until the next chapter! And please remember to REVIEW!  
  
Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
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	14. Part Three: 14

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
  
  
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________________________~*Part Three*~: Diplomacy  
  
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Bulma returned to her room to discover that Yamcha had gone with some of the Saiyan nobility into the city, and would return before the meeting later that evening.   
  
The queen quickly dismissed Nataliah in the hopes that a certain Saiyan Prince would show up and steal her away. Her hopes were dashed, however, when she remembered that he had gone with Magdalene in search of an able technician.   
  
So, alone and bored, Bulma paced the room, thinking of what she could do to occupy herself. It was then that she stumbled across the canvas. It was a miracle in itself to the artistically restrained woman. And, resting on the easel, was an array of paints and several brushes. Bulma felt like a kid in a candy store as she admired all of the bright, bold colors. On Earth, all that ladies were allowed to paint were flowers and the peaceful countryside, but here... the possibilities were endless.   
  
Re-energized, the human determinedly dragged the easel and canvas nearer to the balcony, where she could get a clear view of the ocean. It made perfect sense to paint the spectacular view-- she would take it back to Earth so that she would always remember. That is, if Yamcha had not gotten them killed by then.   
  
Shaking her head, Bulma went about mixing some paints to match the alluring colors of the sea.  
  
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"She says that she likes flowers a lot. Do you like flowers, Vejita-sama? I guess I do, as long as they don't have too much pollen. That stuff makes me sneeze from a mile away! Chichi uses some of those purple flowers in her steamed rice, too. Whenever I see her, she's always making it. Maybe because I'm coming over. Do you like steamed rice? I prefer it over a nice bed of--"  
  
Vejita couldn't handle it anymore. "Enough of your mindless chatter, Kakkarott! I don't give a fuck about your woman's recipe for steamed rice, and I hate flowers!" The agitated prince went back to work going over trade records from Earth. He was starting to feel one hell of a headache coming on. "What are you doing here anyway?"  
  
Kakkarott, who was sitting on a pile of extremely important documents, shrugged. "My dad sent me here to get something for the meeting tonight, except I forgot what it was. I'm thinking that maybe if I sit here long enough, it might come me. What do you think?"  
  
Vejita rolled his eyes. "I think that you should get lost so that I can get back to work."  
  
Kakkarott was not sure of how to respond to that without sounding disrespectful, so he kept his mouth shut for once in his life. Instead, he studied his prince as inconspicuously as he could manage. All day he had been having moderate success in pushing Vejita's affair to the back of his mind, but now that they were alone, it could not be avoided. The Saiyan was beginning to wish that he had just stuck with his food, like he normally would have. "Radditz keeps on bragging about walking Queen Bulma back to her chambers. Do you think that he likes her?"  
  
"Your fool brother likes anything with tits," Vejita replied, never taking his eyes off of his paperwork. Kakkarott could not believe the man's acting skills and easy nonchalance. "And that's including overweight men."  
  
Kakkarott laughed. "He's going around saying that she was giving him special smiles and things," Kakkarott continued. Perhaps if Vejita got jealous enough, he would confess. "He says that she wears transparent wraps for the sake of every man she passes. Do you think that's true?"  
  
"Unless its affecting the treaty, I don't care." Vejita pushed aside the documents and favored Kakkarott with a glare. "Why are you so fired up about it?"  
  
Kakkarott decided to back off-- a wise choice. "I'm not. I just want to keep up with things. Its hard for me sometimes."  
  
Vejita snorted. "I noticed."  
  
"Are you going to see the fireworks after the meeting tonight, Vejita-sama?" Kakkarott asked. "Radditz, Nappa, and even Turles are going. It'll be like the old gang again, you know? I heard that they're going all out this year-- free food and everything!"  
  
"Why would I want to waste my time?" Vejita snapped. "Magdalene is so damned determined to go all out for these humans. Its sickening."  
  
"I think that she's doing it for Bulma," Kakkarott suggested. "I think that she reminds her of herself a few years back."  
  
"Hn." Vejita had always been sore on the subject of his family life. But who could blame him? "Magdalene thinks that she should save every lost soul she encounters."  
  
Kakkarott didn't think that that was such a bad thing, but he kept that to himself. "She wouldn't try if she didn't think that Bulma could be helped. She's smarter than that. And besides, you can see how much happier Bulma has been."  
  
"Its none of my concern, nor is it any of yours," Vejita said, getting up out of his chair.  
  
"You never know," Kakkarott pressed on. "Bulma could be good for Magdalene, too."  
  
Vejita started to exit the room. "Then let the twits gossip together, so long as they stay out of the way." He slammed the door behind him, just to add an extra touch his otherwise flawless performance. Kakkarott was clueless.  
  
Damn, was he good.  
  
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Bulma was putting the finishing touches on the sun-soaked horizon of her painting when Yamcha returned home from the city.   
  
Quickly, she concealed the canvas behind one of the enormous velvet drapes before her husband had time to come into the main room. She just hoped that he wouldn't notice the tiny splotches of color on her fingertips. When Yamcha hurried in, flocked by Nataliah, Bulma was calmly sitting on a chair, gazing out of the window.   
  
"The meeting is in two hours," Yamcha informed her. "As soon as the sun goes down, I expect you to be ready."  
  
"Nataliah will assist me so that I can be prepared on time," Bulma replied. "Did you like the city?"  
  
Yamcha looked impatient to get ready and on with his life, but reluctantly answered her. "Its nothing that we don't have at home. The shops, however, are a disgrace. Who would want to buy such frivilous things?" He shok his head at the audacity of it all. "And the Saiyans are heathens, even the nobility that I spoke to. Queen Magdalene has even arranged for a fireworks show after the meeting. Fireworks! Only the second and third class idiots care to shoot those ridiculous things off."  
  
Bulma had to contain her excitement. Fireworks! She had always longed to be able to enjoy them freely. She decided to put on a good face for Yamcha. "You are right, of course. They are being foolhardy."  
  
"Of course I'm right," Yamcha said smugly. "Enough of your chatter-- its time to being getting ready."  
  
Nataliah waited until Yamcha had gone into the bathroom to speak. "What color do you wish to wear tonight, m'lady?"  
  
"I don't care," Bulma said.  
  
"Are you sure?" Nataliah asked. It was rare that she got to make choices for Bulma. When the queen nodded, she scurried to the bedroom and disappeared into the closet.   
  
Bulma did not really care what she wore, as long as her bruised torso was moderately covered. All that she wanted to think about was the meeting coming up, and the fireworks afterwards. While she was looking forward to the fireworks, Bulma was not so eager to go to the meeting. Yamcha would force her to make some kind of ridiculous entrance so that he was envied, and would likely make her stay silent throught the entire ordeal. And if drinks were served, as was customary, he would drink himself into a stupor and embarass both Bulma and the people back home that they were representing.  
  
The queen's fingers trembled as she thought of all that could (and likely would) go wrong. Her only saving grace was Prince Vejita. They would not be able to interact at the meeting, but perhaps, if Yamcha got drunk enough, they could steal away to watch the fireworks together, where nobody could bother them...  
  
"How is this, m'lady?" Nataliah asked, finally emerging from the bedroom.  
  
Bulma's face went deathly pale at Nataliah's chosen wrap. It was the color of freshly spilled blood.  
  
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"Try not to do so much contouring this time, Kiaa," Magdalene instructed as one of her numerous maids applied her makeup silently. "I would very much like to see something besides eyeliner this time around."  
  
Vejita, who was watching his mother from his seat on her bed, let out a sigh of impatience. Kiaa, the unfortunate handmaiden, began to work faster. "Perhaps you should be concentrating more on the meeting ahead than on your fucking eyeshadow, Magdalene. Yamcha and his woman are likely to arrive first, at this rate."  
  
Magdalene laughed, completely at ease with her son's attitude. "Don't be silly! We still have over an hour before the meeting, and I'm nearly ready."  
  
"I ordered the others to be there early so that we can get ready before the humans came," Vejita reminded her. "Yamcha thinks that he has the upper hand, and I cannot allow that to happen anymore."  
  
"Oh, please-- You sound too much like your father. Bulma and I had a chat this morning about the meeting," Magdalene said, pursing her lips so that Kiaa could check to be sure that the lipstick wasn't smeared. "She was beaten for giving her opinion at the dinner, you know."  
  
Vejita knew far more than even she did. "Any fool could have told you that."  
  
"I decided to take matters into my own hands, which will not surprise you. I arranged to have her observe the proceedings carefully, then meet you later and give you her opinion on things. Without her more educated, controlled influence, our planets will be in ruins by the end of the week, knowing Yamcha." Magdalene shooed Kiaa away and examined her finished face in the mirror. "What do you think of that?"  
  
All that the prince cared about was the excuse to be near to the beautiful human. "Whatever. Just so long as she knows the risks. If we are caught or overheard, she could be charged with treason." Not that she wasn't risking the very same thing now, plus adultery. But Magdalene didn't have to know that.  
  
Magdalene nodded in agreement. "You'll have to find a secure location."  
  
Was his bedroom secure enough? "I know that. Are you finally ready?"  
  
His mother nodded and rose from her chair. They walked side by side to the exit, both lost in thought, though on very different subjects. While Magdalene thought of the good effect Bulma would have on the meetings, Vejita contemplated all of the things tha they could 'accomplish' while they 'discussed diplomacy'. When they rounded the corner to approach the most luxurious of the meeting rooms, however, both were brought back to reality.   
  
As Vejita had commanded, the Saiyan council was already seated and waiting for them around the long marble table. Wine had been served, and documents sat in piles along the table, thanks to Bardock. Vejita and Magdalene took their seats at the head of the table silently. No one was looking forward to the task at hand. Vejita downed his wine quickly, sensing that he would need the numbing effects later.  
  
"Am I the only one wanting to leave already?" Turles asked with a grumpy scowl.  
  
"What do you think?" Vejita snapped. "Everyone here knows what a waste of time this is."  
  
Radditz shrugged. "At least there's good booze!"  
  
Nappa burst out laughing. "Amen to that! All we have to do is get the humans nice and boozed up--"  
  
"And then we can kill Yamcha and have some fun with his woman!" Radditz interjected loudly.  
  
"That's funny, we were planning to do the same thing to you later, Radditz," Vejita quipped, his anger at Bulma being mentioned carefully hidden and replaced with detached coldness. "Now shut up and concentrate."  
  
"Prince Vejita is right," Bardock scolded. "Any further comments from the peanut gallery will not go by unpunished."  
  
Magdalene nodded her agreement, then spoke gravely. "Fighting may prove to be inevitable, but remember-- Vejitasei and Earth depend on one another for trade. We must do everything within reason to avoid war, even when your tempers run away with you."  
  
Kakkarott spoke up for the first itme. "Besides that, think of all the innocent people that get killled in war."  
  
"Now I can see why you always fail your purging missions," Turles retorted. "You are soft, Kakkarott."  
  
"He balances out the evil bastards like you," Radditz said in defense of his kin.  
  
"Don't even get started," Magdalene advised when Turles jumped up to attack Radditz. "We are supposed to be working together, remember?"  
  
Grumbling, Turles returned to his seat, though he made no effort to hide his distaste. Radditz glared at him from across the table bluntly. Kakkarott and Bardock merely stared ahead, as if wishing that they could sink right through the floor. Vejita massaged his temples, a telltale sign of a bad mood. Magdalene alone remained passive. It was going to be a long night.  
  
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Dressed in her blood-colored wrap and thick gold bangles on her wrists and ankles, Bulma waited Yamcha's announcement of their time to leave. Already the sun dipped below the horizon, yet her husband still was hiding behind the closed bathroom door, muttering to himself like a psychopath.  
  
Behind her, Nataliah put the finishing touches on her hair, which was straightened and tied up today, with some spiky strands falling out of the ties. The handmaiden had made her lady's eyes smoky to match the intense mood of the dress, and had painted her lips the color of fine dark wine. Bulma felt like a china doll, but didn't dare to fix any of the makeup. Yamcha would love the look, and she knew it.  
  
"Shall I go and alert him of the time?" Nataliah asked, gesturing to the closed bathroom door.   
  
Bulma considered, examining her manicured nails. "No. Let him be."  
  
The sun had continued its course and nearly disappeared below the horizon when Yamcha finally emerged from his haven, clean-shaven with his hair slicked back like a businessman. His expression was stony and serious. Bulma knew that they were all in for it tonight.   
  
"M'lord," she greeted quietly, standing as her husband approached her. "Are you ready?"  
  
Yamcha took her arm after looking her up and down. "You look marvelous."  
  
"Thank Nataliah," Bulma replied stiffly. She had known that he would love the blood color. It suited his intentions perfectly. She was the mirror image of his goals tonight. "She selected the dress."  
  
The handmaiden blushed when Yamcha waved a hand in her direction, then curtsied and retreated into her chambers.   
  
"She's not accompanying you tonight?" Yamcha asked, narrowing his eyes after her.   
  
"No," Bulma said. "All that she did at the dinner was stand there. I will not be requiring her assistance, I don't think. There is no need to keep her awake into the night."  
  
"Its your call," Yamcha said, but anybody could tell that he did not approve of the decision. Dismissing one's handmaiden was too close to independence, in his opinion. With Bulma securely on his arm, he entered the hallway and motioned for the guards waiting outside to lead them to the meeting room. "Remember what I told you before-- a woman is at her best when silent. I will not have you interuppting our progress with your opinions, you got it?"  
  
Bulma's stomach turned at the oily tone of his voice, but somehow managed to smile and nod. "I remember." She wondered if Magdalene had told Vejita of their plans to discuss the meetings yet. She hadn't received word yet, so she assumed not.   
  
"Right in there, Your Majesties," one of the gruff guards said, stopping before a plain-looking set of doors. "The council is expecting you."  
  
"Good," Yamcha replied curtly, pushing past them to enter the room.   
  
The Saiyans looked up from their assorted documents or drinks when they entered, all wearing varying expressions of impatience. It was obvious that they had been there a while, for Radditz and Nappa's faces were beginning to become flushed with the influence of the fine liquor set in front of them.   
  
Bulma was dismayed to see servants waiting near the corners of the room, holding chilled bottles of wine, ready for refills. Kami, give me the strength to make it through this, she prayed silently, closing her eyes for a split second. When she opened them, she noticed some of the men shooting prying looks in her direction.  
  
Yamcha led her to their seats, once again, near the head of the table. Magdalene sat at the head, with Vejita, Radditz, and Nappa on her right side, Bardock at the other end of the table opposite her, and Turles, Yamcha and Bulma on the left.   
  
"Welcome to our happy little gathering," Vejita said to break the silence, with dark, calculating eyes on Yamcha. "Its so nice of you to finally join us."  
  
Yamcha lifted his chin. "What is our first order of business?"  
  
  
  
"Trade," Bardock said, shuffling some papers that had been carefully organized in front of him. "We all are aware that our planets depend on each other for it. Without some of the products we ship to each other, our economies would be seriously affected, and as we all know, that cannot be allowed. Our planets would be taken over by the stronger, more wealthy planets within a matter of years. It is the way things are in our universe. But first and foremost, we should take into account the state of our citizens. Without a good economy, their businesses will fail, and their families will starve."  
  
"Bardock is right," Magdalene agreed, folding her hands in her lap and leaning back, green eyes bright. "Before taking any action, we must first think of our people."  
  
Yamcha reached for his wine, took a sip, and then spoke up. "I don't know about you Saiyans, but on Earth, nobility is put first. We are, after all, the founders of the cities and setters of trends that our citizens follow. We have to think of who is going to be seriously affected here."  
  
"Yes, we do," Kakkarott interjected. "The citizens are going to be the most seriously affected. They are the ones who will be fighting in a war and suffering if the economy goes bad. The nobility will still be sitting on cushions and buying expensive clothes, even if there is a war going on."  
  
Bulma could hardly believe Kakkarott's intelligent manner. And all this time she had thought him to be simple and naive! Thinking of her own history, though, she supposed that one could adapt to any number of situations. After all, it was hardly likely that Vejita would appoint somebody ignorant to his security council.  
  
"That may be so, but quite frankly, who cares?" Yamcha continued, still sipping his wine. "Thats what the second and third class are established for. When a war happens and the economy declines, they are the ones designated to suffer. Its like that even here, on Vejitasei. It has to happen to somebody."  
  
Before anybody else could cut in, Magdalene ended the sour conversation before it got off the ground. "To each his own. Our values systems are clearly different, and no amount of arguing will ever fix that. If it does, in fact, come to war, I hardly think that either one of us will be concerned about the ethics of each other's war methods."  
  
Nobody could argue this valid point, so the conversation was carried on, starting with Bardock again.  
  
"We still have trade to discuss," he pointed out. "That's where the roots of our problems are. Prices are being raised unfairly, if I do say so myself, and Earth's sloppy shipping methods are interfering with our ability to launch spacecraft off of our planet. And not only that, but there are many debts to be paid, and since Earth's laziness is spanning across the solar system, Vejitasei's own trade routes are being affected. Your pilots' navigating is horrible-- they invade our sky in places that were never discussed in our trade agreements."  
  
"The particulars are far too numerous and boring to discuss," Yamcha said, completely brushing aside Bardock's statements. "The point is, there has been tension building between our planets for decades, and it has to end somehow. Through a war or a treaty, it has to stop."  
  
"I think that we understand that," Vejita said coolly. It was the first time he had spoken up. "Why are we wasting our time on shit that we already know?"  
  
"But, Prince Vejita, in order to draw up a complete treaty--"   
  
Vejita cut Bardock off rudely. "A treaty? Is that what we're here to do? I was under the impression that we were here to talk about war."  
  
"War?" Turles repeated incredulously. "I thought that the whole point of these meetings was to avoid war."  
  
"That's what we originally scheduled them for," Vejita replied, his eyes never leaving Yamcha's. "But apparently, our foreign guests have other ideas."  
  
"You speak of things that you know nothing of," Yamcha protested. His hands trembled as he spoke, making it clear to any careful observer that he was lying through his teeth. "Nothing was mentioned about war. I, too, came in order to avoid war."  
  
"Bullshit!" Vejita accused, crossing his arms. "When we first met, I made it clear that I would not allow you to continue playing mind games with the Saiyan Empire. You and your planet have been trying to screw us over for centuries. Why deny it now?"  
  
Yamcha's eye began to twitch, and he downed the rest of his (third) glass of wine. Bulma sensed danger coming on. She desperately wished that she could speak, but the memory of the painful injuries he had inflicted on her was too painful. She had no desire to subject herself to his abuse again. Besides, she could always smooth things over with Vejita later, could she not? Thats what Magdalene was arranging the private meetings for. When her husband set down his drink, he prepared to speak again.  
  
"I'll admit that we aren't the best of friends," he began in a low voice. "And yes, I have contemplated war many times. In some ways, it would be a better resolution, but..." He cleared his throat and glanced over at the other council members. "Obviously that is not the ethical course of action. So, that is why I came here. Not necessarily to sign a treaty, but to see if anything could be done."  
  
"Bardock, lose the paperwork," Vejita ordered, not giving the man time to protest. "We're talking war now. I can take over from here."  
  
"We're talking war?" Yamcha asked in dismay. He had planned to have some more time to prepare, to fool the Saiyans long enough for the people back on Earth to get ready for a battle. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Its what you wanted, is it not?" Vejita smirked as Yamcha's conflicting emotions played out over his face, knowing that the upper hand had just been passed over to him. Power truly was a wonderful thing. "Theoretically, if we were to have a war, Earth would be annihilated in under a week."  
  
Yamcha shook his head. "Under a week? I don't think that--"  
  
"Let me finish my damned sentence," Vejita interuppted irritably. "Vejitasei has four times the number of warriors than Earth does, and our fighters are far more skilled in the art of... destruction." His smirk got larger. Destruction was his forte. Under his command, the Saiyan army could destroy the people of Earth within the space of two days. "They have the ability to use ki, and have more tolerance for pain. A stab with one of your swords or a little bullet from one of your guns wouldn't even be able to slow down an armored warrior, so what's the point in trying?"  
  
"Earth has many more weapons in its armory than you might think," Yamcha informed him mysteriously, which, of course, let everyone know that he had something up his sleeve. Bulma almost winced at his poor acting and obvious intentions. "And besides, how do you know that you'll be able to breach our atmosphere?"  
  
Radditz burst out laughing. "You honestly believe that you can defeat us? The Saiyan empire? That's truly amusing."  
  
Magdalene frowned. "The people of Earth fight with technology rather than physical strength, Radditz. If it came to war, they would merely craft weapons that could take out soldiers from miles away."  
  
Vejita narrowed his eyes, realization dawning on him. "So that's what this is all about. You've come here to make time for you to manufacture weapons of mass destruction so that when the war comes around, you can win." The Saiyan Prince chuckled. "If those are your intentions, you are seriously mistaken. You are not the only planet that has technology. Vejitasei has in its hire some of the most skilled scientists in the universe."  
  
"That is most definitely not what we came here to do!" Yamcha insisted. "You see, I'm not the one pushing for war-- you are!"  
  
Vejita kept his cool head and rolled his eyes. "I haven't kept the fact that I hate you from anybody."  
  
Magdalene could not allow this to continue. "This is becoming a personal assault. Are you sure that you want it that way?"  
  
Vejita relayed no reaction, while Yamcha frowned deeply and signalled for an alcohol refill. Bulma, whose heart had been in her throat, relaxed a little. She would have much to say about this meeting, that was for sure.  
  
"I am not a fool," Vejita continued, with a defiant glance at his mother. "If you try to play games with me, I can assure you that you will not win."  
  
"No games," Yamcha said defensively. Then, under his breath, "Just war."  
  
Bulma, who knew about the Saiyans' sensitive hearing, gripped the folds of her blood-colored wrap, expecting Vejita to attack her husband and kill him before their very eyes. But the assault never came. When she studied Vejita from across the table, however, she caught the flicker of recognition in his black eyes. He had heard.  
  
"We aren't getting anything done this way," Bardock pointed out as the tense silence continued. "This matter has nothing to do with us personally-- only with the citizens of our planets. Things should not be so personal."  
  
"And I suppose that you Saiyan blockheads blame me!" Yamcha exclaimed. It was then that Bulma could see that he was clearly on his way to being intoxicated.  
  
The people at the table, with the exception of Magdalene and Bulma, jumped up and began shouting simulataneously at each other. Bulma wished that she could sink down through the floor. This was all Yamcha's fault. Things were as bad as she had imagined they would be. Finally, Magdalene took action.  
  
"Enough! All of you!" she shouted. "Be seated at once!"  
  
The men looked surprised at the power of her voice, but sat down anyway. Bulma was amused in spite of herself, though her husband, who was chugging his fifth glass of strong Saiyan iwne, clearly was not.  
  
"We are adults. Surely there is a better way to get this done," Magdalene continued. "But not tonight. The fireworks are scheduled for twenty minutes from now. Go on-- we meet again tomorrow, hopefully with cooler heads and more ideas."  
  
Bulma wanted to race out of the room and into the city to see the fireworks, but her husband remained seated, downing more alcohol, until only Prince Vejita was left in the room, glaring at the human king. Bulma was torn-- should she try to get Yamcha to move, or stay passive? She decided on neither option.  
  
"Don't you want to see the fireworks, Yamcha?" she asked quietly.  
  
"No," he replied, voice slurred. "I want to stay right here." He waved a shaky hand at the exit. "Go on ahead. I don't want to see you right now."  
  
Bulma knew that unless he was as drunken as he was now, he would have never turned her loose, so she took advantage of the opprotunity. "Thank you. I'll do that."  
  
Hoping that Vejita would catch on and follow her, Bulma moved to the doors. She only glanced over her shoulder once, just in time to see Yamcha pass out and slump over the table with a loud snore and then Vejita get up and approach her.  
  
Somehow, with the Saiyan Prince there, she found the normally depressing situation quite funny. She started giggling, then when even Vejita chuckled at the thin trail of drool emitting from Yamcha's open mouth, laughing merrily.  
  
"I really shouldn't be laughing," she managed. "But its just so pathetic."  
  
Vejita followed her out into the hallway, then stopped. "Would you like to watch Magdalene's ridiculous fireworks show?"  
  
Bulma stopped laughing and adopted a more serious expression. "We cannot be seen together," she reminded him. "People will notice us wherever we go, unless you know of a private spot."  
  
Vejita thought for a moment, then smirked and began leading her down the hallway at a fast pace. He had to practically drag Bulma in her high heels behind him, but the human woman didn't care.  
  
"I think that I know of a place."  
  
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+ A/N +Its nice to be back into the normal updating routine again, isn't it? Sorry to say, though, I am leaving for a horse show on Thursday, and I'll be gone until Sunday evening. I might be able to punch out another chapter by then, but I'm not sure. There's gonna be lots of B/V action in the next one, so it'll be well worth the wait. I just want to thank all of those people who took extra time and made an extra effort to IM me and have a little chat. I really, REALLY appreciate it, guys! Feel free to talk to me whenever you want, I'm always open and ready to talk! So, until the the next chapter...  
  
Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
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	15. Part Three: 15

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
  
  
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________________________~*Part Three*~: Diplomacy  
  
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From her seat on the veranda of one the city's most exclusive restaurants, Queen Magdalene could see a great deal of the sprawling, crowded city streets and the people that milled about on them. The fireworks had been made a public affair, since (in Magdalene's opinion, anyway) there were far too few to start with. The nobles might have complained, but at the moment, Magdalene was content to let them have at it.  
  
Seated at her table with her was Bardock, who watched the crowds below with a somber expression and an untouched martini in front of him. Bardock had never been a good drinker. A few tables over, the younger members of the council, Nappa, Radditz, and Turles, drank the night away. Kakkarott had moved from their company to that of his girlfriend, Chichi. They stood at the railing together a short distance away, whispering and giggling to each other. Her son and the human monarchs, however, were nowhere to be seen.  
  
"Have you received word about the humans?" Bardock asked, as if reading her thoughts. "I don't see them anywhere. Nor do I see Prince Vejita."  
  
"I wasn't expecting Vejita to come," Magdalene said, sipping her own drink and scanning the crowd with her unique green eyes. "But I was under the impression that Bulma was looking forward to the fireworks. Yamcha is keeping her away, most likely."  
  
"That man is one of the most foolish I've ever met," Bardock confided, eyeing his martini with distaste. After seeing the human king drink himself into a stupor, he had no desire to repeat the same process himself. "I hate to say it, but your son is right. The humans are wanting a war, but why?"  
  
"Why does anyone want war?" Magdalene said sadly. "Power, recognition, name your preference."  
  
"But there is no way that they can hold their own in battle. Even someone as stupid as Yamcha could see that."  
  
"Therein lies our challenge." Magdalene leaned forward so that no one would overhear her quiet words. "He is planning something, I think. Maybe developing a new kind of technology that could take out a population before any hand-to-hand combat. However, I may be wrong. He might just feel that its time to expand his empire. My husband often had the same inclinations."  
  
"But your husband had you to restrain his power," Bardock pointed out. "Yamcha does not have that in Bulma. She cannot speak up, because she fears punishment."  
  
Magdalene raised an eyebrow. "She fears punishment because she receives it daily. If you look closely, you can make out her physical wounds. And on top of that, she is punished mentally every day that she is married to the tyrant."  
  
"You defend her like a daughter," Bardock said, comfortable speaking his mind with the woman he come to know over the years that their sons had been comrades. "She is just visiting royalty, Magdalene. Are you sure that you aren't getting too attached?"  
  
The Saiyan Queen could read his mind like an open book. "I will not resort to such dirty methods as assasinating leaders to win a war, Bardock, and I don't think that you would, either. The girl hasn't a friend in the world, thanks to her husband. Does that situation remind you of anything?"  
  
"You may feel the connection between you and her to be strong, but you can never be too sure. Yamhca might be using her as a pawn in his little game here. She could turn on you at any moment."  
  
"Please stop that," Magdalene ordered him. She knew that he was only looking out for the well-being of both herself and the empire, but to hear such accusations about Bulma hurt her. "Let us enjoy our drinks and the fireworks, and not dwell on those things."  
  
Bardock nodded, but it was clear that his thoughts were not on his drink or the oncoming fireworks show. Not that Magdalene could blame him-- he was just a serious, dedicated man. They were lucky to have him on their side.   
  
"Kakkarott seems to have found a good match," Magdalene said after a quiet moment, her eyes on the railing of the veranda where the young man and Chichi talked lightheartedly. "I wish that Vejita would settle down."  
  
Bardock followed her glance and nodded, a wistful smile on his wrinkled face. "It brings me joy to see my son so happy. It is truly a privlege when you live long enough to see your children start families."  
  
"I am starting to think that I will never enjoy that aspect of life," Magdalene said softly. "Vejita has no interest in searching for a mate."  
  
Bardock tore his eyes away from Kakkarott and Chichi and studied Magdalene with somber eyes. "Perhaps that is not the direction that his life will take. Some people don't have the need to share their lives with somebody else. Either way, he will be a good king, this I know."  
  
"It means a lot to hear somebody say that."  
  
"It is my pleasure, Your Majesty," Bardock replied. "When your son assumes the throne, you have my word that I will serve him with all that I have."  
  
Magdalene grinned and raised her glass, green eyes twinkling. "I'll toast to that."  
  
Glasses clinked, and the fireworks started.  
  
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By the time they made it out of the palace, Bulma's feet felt as if they were on fire, but she didn't mind. It was almost as if the connection created by she and Vejita's joined hands was feeding her the strength she needed to make it without collapsing.  
  
"Where are we going?" Bulma asked. "If its much farther, your going to have to carry me!"  
  
Vejita was leading her along the path to the city, which was paved with cobblestones that did not bode well for ladies in heels. "We're going to a place near the outskirts of the city," he said impatiently. "If your shoes are hurting, just take the damned things off."  
  
"And go barefoot?" Bulma asked incredulously. All her life, she had dreamed about running barefoot like the peasant children beneath her balcony, but to actually do it... "Perhaps I could just--"  
  
"Whats the matter?" Vejita chided with a smirk. "Afraid already?"  
  
"Afraid? What is there to be afraid of?"  
  
The playful smirk got larger. "I knew that the fireworks scared you, but don't you think that your excuse is extreme?"  
  
Bulma suddenly stopped in her tracks. "I am not afraid!" she insisted, bending over to take off her expensive heels. She left them by the side of the path without a second thought. "Are we going now?"  
  
"Only if your sensitive feet can handle it," Vejita retorted, starting down the path again. "Hurry up-- we're going to miss the show."  
  
The barefooted queen needed no encouragement. Without the restraint of her uncomfortable shoes, she was easily able to keep up with the prince. "Your mother will wonder where we are, especially when she finds Yamcha in the meeting room," she said worriedly. "What should we tell her?"  
  
Vejita thought for a moment, his onyx-colored eyes ever searching for people on the road ahead of them. "We will simply tell her that since fireworks frightened you and your idiot husband passed out, it was the perfect time to discuss the meeting. And on top of that, the woman knows that I wasn't exactly jumping up and down over all of this fireworks bullshit to begin with."  
  
"I hate lying to her," Bulma muttered. "She has gone out of her way for me, and now look at us."  
  
Vejita grew deadly serious. "If you tell her now, there's no telling what the hell will happen."  
  
  
  
"I wouldn't tell her," Bulma assured him hurriedly. "But that doesn't mean that I have to like it."  
  
They had reached the outskirts of the city, which was deserted, much to Bulma's puzzlement. Vejita was quick to tell her that all of the Saiyans were likely gathered in places closer to the fireworks, in the heart of the action. He then led her around the side of a particularly large building, atop of which one could look over the whole rest of the city. Bulma looked doubtfully down at her binding wrap, then up at the building.  
  
"On top of a building?" The human shook her head. "Its too risky. Any flying Saiyan could see us."  
  
"What do you take me for, some kind of idiot?" Vejita gestured to the area around them. "There are no homes here. That's why I chose it."  
  
"Ah," Bulma said. He was right-- there wasn't a home in sight. "You're going to have to fly me up there, though."  
  
"Which won't be a problem, considering that you have the body weight equivelant to that of a dried-up corpse."  
  
Bulma winced at the grisly analogy. "Charming. Utterly charming."  
  
The Saiyan Prince smirked. "You didn't have to tell me that. I stick with what I know."  
  
A test flare went off in the distance, warning the waiting Saiyans that the show was near to beginning. Bulma followed its glowing trail with wide eyes, her heart in her throat. She had seen fireworks once in her entire life, for a split second before her mother had shooed her away to shelter. Vejita nearly had to shout to get her attention as the flare exploded with a burst of orange sparks.  
  
"Flying isn't necessary," he observed, surveying the building before them with expertise. "Raising my ki would catch Magdalene's attention, and then she would know where I was. All you have to do is climb up that pipe over there."  
  
Bulma raised her eyebrows at the vertical climb. "Oh? Is that all?"  
  
Vejita ignored her and started up the pipe with ease. He was up on top of the building in a matter of seconds. He then turned and stared down at the human girl expectantly. He clearly was under the impression that she could easily scale it as well.  
  
"I couldn't possibly make up there!" Bulma called to him helplessly.   
  
"Then I suppose you'll miss the show." Vejita crossed his arms and waited.  
  
Bulma, at a loss for words, could only gape at the pipe. With shaky hands, she seized the hem of her wrap and tied it up above her knees, careful not to ruin the delicate fabric. She couldn't help but feel a bit ashamed-- never in her life had she revealed her legs to any man, save for her husband. It was downright scandalous to even show your ankles back on Earth, yet here she was, wearing the equivelant of a miniskirt. The human queen mustered up the bravery to look back up at Vejita, who acted as if there was nothing odd about showing one's legs. His casual demeanor gave her courage, and she found herself approaching the pipe.  
  
She had never climbed anything in her life, so she was at a loss of what she was supposed to do. As she was deciding what to do, another flare went off in the distance.  
  
"That's the final warning, woman," Vejita called, getting impatient. "Hurry up!"  
  
Bulma took a deep breath, then gripped the pipe with both hands and hoisted herself off of the ground. The first few feet were extremely difficult-- her slender arms were not accustomed to bearing her entire weight, but with renewed adrenaline responsible by her eagneress to see her first fireworks, she managed to make it almost all of the way up without Vejita's help. There she stopped, her blue eyes wide with uncertainty. She couldn't bear to move another foot, she knew it, but her only other option was to let go and tumble to the hard ground. It would be hard to make up an excuse for a broken back.  
  
"Vejita," she pleaded. "Help me up, please."  
  
The prince was about to roll his eyes, but then realized that there was real fear and helplessness in Bulma's eyes, and reluctantly grabbed hold of her arms and lifted her easily up onto the roof. "You need to exercise even more than your weakling mate," he commented.  
  
Bulma sat on the edge of the roof, catching her breath. "Don't call him that," she managed between breaths. "Calling him my 'mate' implies that our relationship was voluntary, and it most definitely was not. He is my husband by title only."  
  
Vejita avoided her eyes, and ignored her comment. He instead moved to the highest part of the roof and took a seat, his gaze fixed on the sky above the city.  
  
Bulma furrowed her brows in confusion. What had she said? Apparently it hadn't been unexcusable, because when she crossed the roof and sat down beside him, her wrap still tied up around her knees, he did not frown or scowl. A question loomed on the edges of her mind, but it was risky. Since she had nothing to lose, she decided to ask it.  
  
"Why is it that you are not mated yet?" she asked quietly, her expression sincere. "I was under the impression that most are expected to be paired at a fairly young age. And you're the heir to the throne-- I would think that that would only speed up the process."  
  
"It isn't that simple here," Vejita responded blandly. Her question had obviously caught him off guard. "A mate is not just someone that you call your partner and can divorce whenever you get sick of them. A Saiyan mates for life. There is only one person that is destined to be with you, so whether or not you find them is out of your hands."  
  
  
  
Bulma thought this to be the most sensible way to find a partner she had ever heard of. "Do you think that you'll ever find her?" she asked softly.  
  
Vejita turned to look at her, his eyes unreadable. Bulma waited for his answer innocently, her delicate features expectant. She had probably wondered the same thing for herself many times since she had married Yamcha, Vejita thought. And unfortunately, she would probably never find that person. "No one can ever tell. As far as I know, I could have met her already."  
  
Bulma had not reply to this, so she fell silent. Vejita watched her for a moment, then leaned back on his elbows to better see the sky. He didn't mind the silence-- he own mind was turning full force. After a minute, Bulma leaned back beside him, still lost in thought.  
  
Finally, with a burst of multi-colored light, the fireworks began. Bulma watched with gleaming eyes as the sky exploded with color and light before her. Vejita had seen fireworks countless times in his life, so this was nothing special. Inconspicuously, he watched the emotions cross Buma's enraptured face as the show went on. There was so many things that the girl had never seen for herself that she could experience here, and she didn't even know the half of it.   
  
Bulma glanced over during a short break inbetween fireworks and noticed him not even paying attention to the show. "How can you not watch?" she asked. "You don't even know how lucky you are to have this kind of freedom."  
  
Vejita snorted. "Fireworks? That's your idea of freedom?"  
  
Bulma looked a little bit hurt at his amused reaction. "You take for granted what millions of others would give up their lives to have."  
  
"Would you?"  
  
The queen turned back to the fireworks. The brilliant colors were reflected on her eyes on face and made her even more breathtaking than she had been before. She sighed heavily, as if a heavy burden were being taken off of her thin shoulders.   
  
"Yes," she breathed, closing her eyes for a moment, as if to imprint the moment in her mind forever. "I would sacrifice everything."  
  
Vejita watched the show for another minute, then turned to see that Bulma was watching him rather than the fireworks. He smirked, knowing that they were on the same wavelength, and soon enough their lips met, as if to seal her admission. Because really, if they were discovered, she would be sacrificing everything.  
  
Bulma no longer cared that she was missing the show-- they seemed to be generating their own fireworks. She squeezed her eyes shut tight to contain the tears were forming in her azure eyes at the perfect moment. If only it were really possible to give up everything, if only...  
  
The finale of the show began, and neither monarch had any intentions of stopping.  
  
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After the show, the Saiyan council, including Magdalene and Bardock, stayed on the restaurant veranda, which had been reserved especially for them, to discuss the meeting. Nobody looked happy to be talking business after the celebration, but it could not be avoided. They were getting nothing done, and if things kept on this way, there would be war for sure.  
  
"There has to be a way to resolve this problem," Bardock said, partly to himself. "Yamcha clearly does not want to cooperate, but its the only way..."  
  
Magdalene pondered whether she should tell the others about her plans to speak with Bulma. She looked around at all of the faces near her, and knew instinctively that they could be trusted. She had, after all, known them for their entire lives. "I think that I may have a solution for that particular problem."  
  
Turles snickered. "I have a solution-- why don't we just beat him into submission? Its always worked before."  
  
His fellow troublemakers-- aka Radditz, Nappa, and even Kakkarott-- chuckled at the only half-joking suggestion. Bardock looked like he had a migraine coming on.  
  
"But you all must swear to absolute secrecy," Magdalene continued, her tone stern. "If word of this comes out..." She shook her head. "There is no telling what could happen."  
  
The others leaned towards her, intrigued. It wasn't often that Magdalene did something so risky.  
  
"I had a little chat with Queen Bulma the other day," the woman began, taking in the mixed reactions on the men's faces. Doubt, suspicion, and something approaching lust-- they were all there. "And I learned that she was punished for her wise words at the dinner. She is clearly our only good contact with Earth, the voice of reason compared to her husband. We decided to take our chances and have her meet with either Vejita or myself sometime after each meeting, so that she can share her ideas and perhaps help us to bargain with Yamcha. What do you think of that?"  
  
Silence for a moment. Then Bardock spoke up, his voice grave.   
  
"Are you sure that this is wise idea, Magdalene?" he asked, his voice lowered just in case any servants were eavesdropping, as they were sometimes known to do. "Bulma may remind you of yourself in earlier years, and you many think that you can save her, but how can you be sure that she won't turn on us?"  
  
Magdalene snorted. "Oh, please. That poor girl is starving for some say in the matter. It is becoming increasingly obvious to me that she is unhappy and wanting to have her voice heard."  
  
Radditz pouted. "How come Vejita is the one to meet with her? He has a hot temper-- he could explode and ruin things at any given moment. I think that if I were the one to--"  
  
"Shut up, Radditz," Turles snapped. "You just want to get up her skirt, you bastard!"  
  
Nappa came to his friend's defense. "Hey! Wouldn't you? I think that every man here with partly-functioning balls would go out of his way to get that."  
  
"I wouldn't," Kakkarott said timidly. "Bulma's nice. She's just a friend."  
  
"Kakkarott seems to be the only one here with a bit of sense," Magdalene pointed out. "The reason that I chose Vejita was because I know that he will be able to handle the situation, and I know that he would not utter a word about it. It sounds like I was right-- sending one of you fools out sounds a bit too dangerous for my liking."  
  
"Speaking of Vejita..." Bardock said. "Where is he? It defeats the purpose of this discussion to have him missing. He is, after all, in charge of the talks."  
  
"I had not told him that we would be doing this," Magdalene replied. "And he had no desire to watch the fireworks, so he is back at the palace."  
  
Radditz, grumpy after being ridiculed, rolled his eyes. "How come he can get out of it so easily?"  
  
Everyone at the table ignored him, which wasn't entirely unusual.   
  
"Where Vejita is doesn't matter," Bardock said, breaking the silence. "Magdalene, I still do not think that Bulma should be trusted. She could easily con any sane man into spilling all kinds of political secrets."  
  
It was then that none other than Prince Vejita himself entered the council's private veranda, scowling as usual. He had heard Bardock's comment, but was hiding it well. The Saiyan then pulled up a chair next to Magdalene and Turles. The people at the table waited for an explanation that never came. Instead, Kakkarott spoke up, unable to bear the awkward lull in conversation any longer.  
  
"Where were you, Vejita?" he asked innocently. "You missed some great fireworks."  
  
Vejita chuckled inwardly at the incorrect assumption. He had gotten his share of fireworks, that was for sure. And he was still feeling them, even after Bulma had slipped back into the palace, fully dressed once more. "I was in the palace. I despise crowds, and I've seen enough fireworks shows to blow up one of the moons of Namek."  
  
"We were just about ready to discuss this evening's meeting," Magdalene informed him. Something in her voice led Vejita to believe that she had only pretended to accept his excuse. "I told them about our arrangements with Queen Bulma."  
  
  
  
Vejita glared at his mother sharply. That had not been what he had expected. His mother must have been extremely worried about an impending war to allow such a dangerous secret to be shared. He hoped that the woman knew what she was doing. "I hope that everyone is aware of what could happen if word gets out." And everyone knew that war was not the only punishment that would come to them. Vejita may be their friend, but he also had the blood of millions on his hands. What was a few more to him?  
  
Bardock cleared his throat, preparing to speak. "You can be assured that no here will utter a word," he said with a respectful nod to his prince. "I give you my word."  
  
"Which is more than enough," Magdalene interjected. "Moving on-- what did you think of the meeting, Vejita?"  
  
"Unproductive to the casual observer," he responded, leaning back in his chair with a smug look on his face. "But not so much if you know what to look for."  
  
Nappa could nto help but disagree. "We got nothing done, Vejita-sama. All that was shown was that we share no common goals whatsoever."  
  
"You are looking at it completely wrong," Vejita continued. "If you dumbasses weren't so caught up on making quick progress, you would have seen what I did-- weaknesses."  
  
The Saiyans mulled this over for a moment, then realized that Vejita was right. Magdalene's green eyes gleamed with pride.  
  
"Yamcha is clearly a drinker, and it doesn't take much to affect his judgement," the prince said, picturing Yamcha slumped over the table, a half-empty glass of wine still within his reach. "His anger is also something that can be used against him. And then... there's his woman."  
  
"Bulma?" Bardock shook his head. "How is she a weakness?"  
  
Vejita smirked at his own cleverness. "She is his trophy. Compliment her to keep him happy, and use her to control his actions. If worse comes to worse, she can be used as a tool to bargain with. And when she starts giving her opinions on the meetings, we can also acquire any information that Yamcha is keeping from us."  
  
Magdalene looked grim. "So be it then. The girl could be the downfall of both our empires."  
  
Vejita looked away. If she only knew.  
  
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Bulma returned to her room to find that Yamcha was still unconscious in the meeting room, which worked well for her, considering that it would have been nearly impossible to conceal her excitement over the fireworks. And Vejita.  
  
Unfortunately, she could not bask her in happiness alone. Nataliah scurried over to her the minute she stepped through the door, her plain face worried.  
  
"My lady!" she exclaimed. "Where were you? And what of King Yamcha? The meeting ended hours ago!"  
  
Bulma almost did not mind her maid's frantic questions today. "I went to watch the fireworks, and Yamcha is... still in the meeting room." The queen took off her uncomfortable shoes and started over to her vanity, where she took a seat and motioned to the hairbrush that rested on it. "Would you brush out my hair please, Nataliah?"  
  
The handmaiden obediently began to do her lady's bidding, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She had no doubt in her mind that Bulma had been with the dark and handsome Saiyan Prince. The thought deeply troubled her.  
  
  
  
"Oh, Nataliah," Bulma breathed happily as the other girl brushed her silky curls. "I had so much fun this night. It almost makes up for the horrible meeting."   
  
"Did you enjoy the fireworks, m'lady?" Nataliah asked, hoping that Bulma's secret would slip. "I've heard that they are quite frightening."  
  
Bulma closed her eyes for a second, as if reliving the moment. "At first they are, but it is hard to be scared of something so beautiful." The queen then spun around in her chair to face her maid earnestly. "Promise me that you will never tell Yamcha that I went. I need your word." When Nataliah nodded shakily, her eyes averted elsewhere, she relaxed and sat back down.  
  
"Did you watch them with the queen?" Nataliah dared to ask. As for the promise she had made... she could only hope that she would have the strength to honor it.  
  
Bulma seemed to hesitate for a moment before answering. "Yes. Her and the Saiyan council. They behave so differently-- almost like a family. They even call each other by their first names."  
  
"How strange."  
  
"Not strange," Bulma corrected her with a wistful smile. "Comfortable."  
  
Nataliah finished brushing the last section of Bulma's shining hair and took a step back to admire her work. "You seem to like it her, m'lady."  
  
"Oh, I do," Bulma said. "Everything is so relaxed, and the planet is so gorgeous, like something out of a dream."  
  
Nataliah responded quietly. "And what of... the people?"  
  
Bulma sighed contentedly. "Wonderful. The people here are wonderful." The queen then stood and turned to her maid with a yawn. "If you'll excuse me, I believe I'll retire."  
  
Nataliah curtsied before leaving for her own room. "Good night, m'lady."  
  
"Good night," was Bulma's moony response.  
  
Nataliah grimaced as she turned her back and exited the room. It was worse than she had feared. The married queen was either completely head-over-heels in love or stark raving mad, and as time passed, the second option was seeming far more appealing.  
  
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+ A/N +Well, I'm back! And look at this-- an update, so soon! I made the chapter longer, just to make up for my absence. There will be another update towards the end of the week, hopefully. I might be going on a camping trip (Ugh, I despise camping!) on Friday until Sunday, but nothing's certain yet. You have my word that a chapter will be out by then. Special shout-out to Kira Anne, who was kind enough to chat with me for quite a while the other day. Thanks for your extra time, not to mention the book suggestion! When she reposts and edits her fic, 'Sunset Business', please go read it! There's controversy, sex, and violence... an award-winning combination, in my eyes. Anyway, I'll be working hard on the next installment of this fic. Until then...  
  
Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
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	16. Part Three: 16

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
  
  
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________________________~*Part Three*~: Diplomacy  
  
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When the Saiyan Prince returned to his chambers that night, Kakkarott accompanied him, saying that he wished to discuss the next day's sparring match with him. Since they had no reasons to doubt this claim, nobody questioned Kakkarott's intentions.  
  
Which was good, considering that the man hardly even knew them himself. When he had stood to follow Vejita, he had originally intended to confront him once they were alone in the palace, just to get the horrible burden of 'the' secret off of his mind. But now that they were on their way... Well, lets just say that Vejita was not the kind of person that one would want to confront with such a thing.  
  
"What did you want to discuss about our sparring tomorrow?" Vejita finally asked, once they were alone in the maze that was the palace hallways of Vejitasei. He sounded like he was not expecting anything more than a change of time. He was in for a surprise. "And you had better not be cancelling, you coward. I've already scheduled my day around the session. I would hate to have to punish you for the waste of time." The sarcastic tone of voice told Kakkarott that he would have no qualms about doing exactly that.  
  
"Umm..." Kakkarott stammered nervously. "I actually didn't really want to talk about that. I really wanted to talk to you about... ummm..."  
  
Vejita crossed his arms impatiently. "About what? Stop your stuttering, Kakkarott."  
  
Kakkarott thought of something just then, and inwardly sighed in relief at his recovery. "Mates-- I wanted to talk to you about mates!"  
  
Vejita lifted a brow in disbelief. It was common knowledge that the man had no such interest in those 'worthless' things. It made no sense for Kakkarott to seek him out for advice about... that. But, since this would most definitely prove to be amusing, he allowed Kakkarott to continue.  
  
"You see, I've been hanging out with Chichi for a while now, and I think that if we did decide to... well, mate, we would get along really well," Kakkarott said awkwardly. He sounded like an idiot-- Vejita would not believe him for a second, and if he did, what the hell would he say? He had to find a way to weave Bulma into this conversation, and quickly. "And I wanted to know what you think about that. The possibility of spending the rest of your life with someone, I mean."  
  
Now Vejita really didn't know what to say. This was certainly not something that Kakkarott would have normally sprung upon him, and that was saying a lot, considering that Vejita had known him for his entire life. There was a method behind this particular madness, and Vejita was wanting to know what it was. So he decided to play along.  
  
"In your case, Kakkarott," he began with a smirk. "It would be a complete waste of time."  
  
Kakkarott was shocked in spite of himself. He had, after all, only been half-kidding about his affection for Chichi. "Why is that, Vejita-sama?"  
  
"Well," Vejita responded, still smirking at this entertaining conversation. "Whats the point in mating with someone when there is no possibility of offspring? Doing that would be rather pointless, don't you think?"  
  
"Why is there no possibility of children?" Kakkarott asked, now genuinely confused.   
  
"Because, Kakkarott, one cannot have children if one doesn't know how to create them."  
  
"I know where babies come from!" Kakkarott protested, his face red with embarrassment. He did, truly!  
  
"Sure," Vejita taunted. "You know what they told you in the soldiers barracks, but do you really know how to go through with it? I'm sure that TaTa or whatever her name is would not appreciate the experience of having an man rutting clumsily on her, without a clue as to what he's doing."  
  
Kakkarott's face was as bright as a tomato now. "Hey! Her name is Chichi, and I'm not clumsy."  
  
Vejita chuckled wickedly. This night just kept on getting better and better. "Sure, Kakkarott."  
  
"I asked for your advice, not for you to make fun of me," Kakkarott complained with a frown. This was definitely not turning out the way he had wanted it to. He was making a fool of himself, and Vejita would likely never let him forget it. He had a feeling that he would be hearing about this for the rest of his natural life. "Is that truly what you think, Vejita?"  
  
The Saiyan Prince recognized the sincerity in Kakkarott's tone, and scowled. "Kakkarott, if you want to go and mate with that third-class whore, its none of my concern. If you think that the woman's really your mate, then why the hell not?"  
  
"Thanks for the truth," Kakkarott said. When he looked up at their surroundings, he realized that they were almost to Vejita's chambers. Which, of course, reminded him of when he had spotted Vejita and Bulma together. And that, in turn, reminded him of his real goal. To expose the bitter truth. But how to do it? "Vejita... I wanted to talk to you about something else, too."  
  
Vejita rolled his eyes. What was next-- how to choose the right colored armor for your skin tone? "And what would that be, Kakkarott?"  
  
The other Saiyan stopped in the middle of the hallway, then looked to make sure that they were alone. When he had confirmed this, he lowered his voice to a serious whisper. "I saw you the night of the dinner, Vejita-- you know, when you went away?"  
  
Vejita's black eyes narrowed. Was this really happening? He supposed that if Kakkarott had seen anything of substance, he could always kill him, but it would be such a shame to lose a perfectly good sparring partner, not to mention a member of his council...  
  
"I followed you," Kakkarott admitted. "I don't know why-- it was just a feeling that I went on. But I found you just in time to watch Bulma go into your chambers with you. And you were suppressing your ki the entire time, which leads me to believe that... you and her were... you know. I hope that I'm wrong, but..."  
  
Vejita felt sick with the shock of Kakkarott's statement. He knew. Somebody knew. His first instinct was to maim the man, but on second thought, he couldn't. What if Kakkarott had told someone else? Worse of all-- did Magdalene know? The Saiyan Prince growled and seized Kakkarott by the throat, his angry dark eyes tinged with red as the rage took him over.  
  
"If you utter one word to anybody about this, Kakkarott, I will use your bloodied corpse to complete the decorating scheme in my chambers!"  
  
Kakkarott struggled to breathe within Vejita's iron grasp. "I swear to you that I didn't, Vejita-sama! You have my word as a Saiyan! As a warrior, even!"  
  
Vejita studied him for a few moments, then reluctantly dropped him to the ground, watching as he gasped and weezed for air. He glanced over his shoulder to be sure that no one had overheard.  
  
"Follow me back to my chambers," he ordered in a dangerously low voice. "We will discuss this further there, where we will not be overheard."  
  
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Back in the ambassador's suite, where the human monarchs were staying, Bulma lay awake in her bed, unable to find sleep.   
  
Yamcha had not returned yet, and likely would not until some unfortunate servant found him when cleaning the meeting rooms in the morning. Bulma didn't mind-- not at all. It was nice to be able to lay peacefully without the man fondling her any time he had the desire to. Bulma shuddered at the thought. Hopefully Yamcha would spend many nights away from their chambers on this trip. In her heart, though, she knew that she wouldn't get that lucky. So she had decided to enjoy it while she could and retire early. Some plan that had been. Now she coudn't even fall asleep.  
  
The queen tossed over in her enormous bed, her mind still reeling from the lovely fireworks she had seen earlier that night. Never in her life had she been allowed to see such an exciting event. And she could see why now-- if everyone got to experience such things, they would never be content with their boring lives again! She knew that she wouldn't. Not after all that she had been able to do since arriving here. Swimming in the ocean, painting the sunset, playing a piano, watching boxing matches, and climbing up on a rooftop to see fireworks were hardly considered ladylike activities back on Earth. But here, nobody seemed to think twice about doing such things. Most especially Prince Vejita.  
  
Bulma smiled against her pillows and turned over again at the thought of the darkly handsome man. She had never met anyone quite like him in her life, which may or may not have been a good thing. And, in turn, he had shown her all of the things that she had always dreamed of and more. He had been the first and only man since Byron that had shown her what true affection could be like. Even her sweet dalliance with Byron so long ago couldn't match up to her affair with the dynamic prince. For some reason, the match just seemed to... fit.   
  
And their time together on the rooftop... Bulma felt the sensitive skin between her legs grow warm with the pleasant memory. Being with Vejita was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Especially compared to what Yamcha did to her. When she was with Vejita, it was pleasurable for all parties involved.   
  
Those sensual thoughts drove Bulma over the edge. She couldn't lay still anymore. The insomnia-ridden woman slipped out of her bed, careful not to wake Nataliah, who slept in her room nearby. The moonlight-bathed balcony beckoned to her.  
  
Cautiously, she opened the doors that led outside and stepped out into the cool summer night. The soothing sounds of the ocean waves crashing below were enough to lull her to sleep already. Seeing the ocean reminded her of Vejita, which worsened her problem. No matter where she went, she could not get him off of her mind. What would she do with herself once it was time to leave?  
  
Bulma chose not to think about that time that loomed near, and instead concentrated on the beautiful view before her. She fleetingly wondered if Vejita were experiencing the same feelings as her, and if he was missing her presence. She had never known what it felt like to be loved in return, but she was sure that it was a wonderful feeling.   
  
With an unsatisfied sigh, the queen rested her head on her hands and allowed herself to dream.  
  
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Kakkarott could smell the sweet scent that was Bulma as soon as Vejita opened the door. The room positively reeked of her-- a sure sigh that whatever they had been doing had caused the woman to sweat a little. Kakkarott may have been naive, but he wasn't stupid.  
  
Vejita motioned for Kakkarott to take a seat on a very expensive-looking leather couch and fixated his infamous glare upon him. "You are treading on thin ice here, fool. Tell me what you think you saw."  
  
The third-classed Saiyan could not think of a nice way to word what he had seen, so he went for the straight approach. "I saw you and Bulma go into your chambers, and then I felt you hide your ki, like you did today during the fireworks." Kakkarott dared to go farther. "You were with her again tonight, weren't you?"  
  
"Kakkarott, if you even think about--"  
  
"I won't tell anyone," Kakkarott assured him hurriedly. "But Vejita-sama, why are you doing this? It's so dangerous, to both of you."  
  
Vejita did not answer him for moment. He averted his gaze out to the ocean view that his floor-to-ceiling windows provided. The pure blue of the water reminded him of Bulma, which would explain why he could be found by the water so much lately. He could not put into words the answer to Kakkarott's question. Maybe he had done it because of the woman's extraordinary beauty, or maybe because of her eerie knowledge of his song. It was something that he couldn't describe. "I don't know," he snapped, hating himself for thinking such 'soft' thoughts.  
  
Kakkarott seemed to understand. "Talk about meeting at the wrong and time! Bulma would have made a great queen here, I think. And then Yamcha couldn't hurt her anymore. She could be free."  
  
Vejita hated to admit it, but Kakkarott was right. His strength combined with her spellbinding looks would make them invincible. And, above all, Bulma wanted to be free. She had said it herself that evening. But would she really sacrifice everything? "And just what do you suggest I do about that?!" he demanded helplessly, taking out his anger on Kakkarott. "She is a human, Kakkarott. She could never rule here."  
  
"I don't know about that," he disagreed. "She's so pretty, and everyone likes her-- even Turles, and he doesn't like anybody."  
  
Vejita didn't want to hear all of these far-fetched things. "Who gives a shit?" he snapped. "Even if that's all true, what difference does it make? She's fucking married, and our planets are nearly at war! That is why this can never amount to anything but an affair."  
  
"I know that that's true," Kakkarott said quietly. "But I also know that if I met someone so special that I would risk all of this for, I would do whatever it took to make sure that I spend the rest of my life with that person."  
  
The thought weighed heavily on Vejita's mind, demanding his full attention. "Leave me now," he barked at Kakkarott. "And see to it that you keep your big mouth shut."  
  
He didn't even notice Kakkarott leave the room. He had too much to think about.  
  
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When dawn came, the warm golden sunlight found Queen Bulma sprawled out on her bed alone, and on top of the covers. The doors to the balcony were still open, letting in the crisp, salty morning breeze, which told Bulma that she had had a late night. She couldn't even remember going back to bed.  
  
The Queen, who was up abnormally early, sat up and stretched groggily. Still wiping the sleep from her slanted eyes and yawning, Bulma got up from her bed to prepare herself for the day ahead of her. Judging by the lack of snoring as she emerged from the bedroom, Yamcha was still slumped over the meeting room table, cleansing the marble surface with his drool. It was a mental image that the woman nearly laughed aloud at. Almost.  
  
She was in the middle of brushing out her own hair-- a rare event indeed, thanks to Nataliah's constant doting-- when a knock sounded on the door to the suite. Since she was in no condition to answer it, she waited for her handmaiden to do it for her. Hopefully, the Russian girl was a light sleeper.   
  
Sure enough, the knocking stopped, and Nataliah's voice could be faintly heard. Bulma put down her brush, hoping that Yamcha had not been discovered yet.  
  
Her prayers were answered when Nataliah approached her, alone and clutching a note. She looked confused.  
  
"It was delivered from one of Prince Vejita's guards," she explained, handing the sealed envelope to Bulma. "I wonder what he wants. I was told that it was for your eyes only, m'lady."  
  
Bulma took the envelope and frowned. "Thank you, Nataliah. If you would excuse me for a moment?"  
  
She waited until Nataliah had gone from the room to open the envelope, which held a letter on which was written only two words. Two words that struck fear into Bulma's heart.  
  
Nataliah rushed into the room just in time to catch Bulma as she fainted. The note fluttered to the floor, deceivingly harmless. The handmaiden furrowed her brows and unfolded it, wondering just what could case her lady so much distress.  
  
The two handwritten words explained it all.  
  
'Kakkarott knows.'  
  
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When Bulma came to, she found herself still laying on the bathroom floor, with her handmaiden hovering over her worriedly. The queen blinked a few times to clear her blurry vision, then made an attempt to sit up.  
  
"Oh, no m'lady!" Nataliah exclaimed, stopping her in mid-movement. "You musn't overexert yourself before I am sure that you're okay."  
  
Bulma rolled her eyes at the girl's ridiculous exclamation. She may not fully remember why she was on the floor, but she could certainly operate fine. "Let me up, Nataliah, and give me some air."  
  
Nataliah reluctantly moved away, but still kept a close eye on Bulma's every movement.  
  
Bulma stood shakily and glanced at her reflection in her mirror. It appeared that she had been brushing her hair before she had fainted, but what had been the cause of her distress? Certainly not the task of combing her hair. The woman took a step back from the mirror, as if moving would bring her to a sudden revelation.  
  
Nataliah guessed what it was that she was doing and gestured to the crinkled note on the floor. "Perhaps the message startled you, Your Majesty," she suggested timidly.  
  
"Perhaps you're right," Bulma said, bending to pick up the paper. "As I recall, it was from Prince Vejita, am I right?"  
  
Nataliah nodded.  
  
  
  
"Then this must be why," Bulma concluded. "Leave me alone while I read it again, please."  
  
"If you need my assistance, I shall be at your call," Nataliah said. She then curtsied and left the room. She remembered what it was in the letter quite clearly, and planned to do something about it, too. But for the moment, her confused mistress did not need to know that.  
  
Bulma unfolded the paper and read the two words again. Her face drained of what little color it had, and she found it to be a miracle that she did not faint again. Feebly, she closed the bathroom door and locked it, craving solitude.  
  
Kakkarott knew. But how? Bulma knew that she had not told. Yet, it hardly seemed that Vejita would do such a thing. He generally trusted no one with his pocket change, let alone the secret that could very well bring them all to ruin. The only way that Kakkarott could have found out was by actually seeing them together. Even that seem unlikely, as Vejita could have easily detected his ki from a considerable distance away. That left her with only one choice-- she had to contact Vejita.  
  
"Nataliah!" she called, unlocking and opening the bathroom door. "Fetch me a pen and some paper. I wish to respond to Prince Vejita's letter."  
  
Moments later, Nataliah appeared with the requested materials and waited patiently for Bulma to scribble down a quick message in reply to Vejita's letter. Quickly, Bulma folded the note and handed it to Nataliah.  
  
"Take this to Prince Vejita," she ordered seriously. "I want you to personally transfer it to his hands, and his only. Can you accomplish this?"  
  
The maid nodded. "I shall have it to him in no time, m'lady." She then wasted no time in exiting the room and hurrying off to find Prince Vejita.  
  
Now that she was safely alone, Bulma dropped her cool act and let her emotions take over. With a shaking sob of despair, she sank to the cold marble floor of the bathroom. Smooth curls hid her face as she cried, which undid any of the good her detangling had done, but she hardly cared. Her whole world felt as if it were crashing down.  
  
Kakkarott knew-- and had possibly taken his sensible self straight to Queen Magdalene, who in turn would have no choice but to expose their scandalous, unlawful affair. And, if nothing else, that would trigger the war that would take take a toll on both their planets. Bulma could not allow that to happen. She prayed that Vejita had convinced Kakkarott to keep the secret, even if he had felt the need to use force. There were some things that just could not be avoided.  
  
All that she could hope for was that Vejita got her note requesting that they meet to discuss the problem soon, and would respond quickly. In this situation, time was something that they did not have. Feeling as though she could not function under the pressure, Bulma collapsed into tears again, alone on her bathroom floor.  
  
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As soon as Bulma's quivering maid delivered the note into Vejita's hands, he scowled and nearly shoved the woman out of his chambers. Once he was alone, the prince tore open the note and read the words written in Bulma's flourished hand, a trick surely learned in a nobles' finishing school. What a waste of time-- and not to mention ink.   
  
The note read 'I understand. We must meet at the soonest possible convienance to resolve the problem. Bulma.'  
  
Vejita burned the note into a small pile of ash in his hand and pondered her response. He knew that they had to talk immediately, but what if her idiot husband was awake and in the room? Remembering Kakkarott's clear uncertainty, Vejita decided to take his chances with Yamcha. If worse came to worse, he could kill him (neatly) and blame it on alcohol poisoning (or maybe Radditz). Judging by the human's behavior last night, everyone would believe him.  
  
Rather than run the risk of being spotted in the palace hallways, Vejita went to his balcony and powered up for flight. The humans' rooms were only a short fly around the building, so Vejita tok his chances. After casting one last look over his shoulder to be sure that no servant had entered the room, he took off, headed for Bulma and Yamcha's balcony.  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
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******Check out my new account, "Cerulean Rhapsody", on MediaMiner.org.... and remember to review!  
  
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	17. Part Three: 17

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
  
  
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________________________~*Part Three*~: Diplomacy  
  
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All was silent in the human's chambers when Vejita landed. Thankfully, the doors of the balcony were left ajar, saving him the trouble of breaking the lock or, Kami forbid, actually knocking. Just to be sure, Vejita felt for the ki's in the room-- only two weak ki's were present, and it was definitely Bulma's.  
  
Certain that it was safe to enter, he strolled into the room confidently, concentrating on Bulma's ki so that he could find her without checking every room in the place. His senses led him to the open bathroom, where Bulma must have gone to read his note.  
  
He found her slumped against the bathroom sink, on the floor, with her uncharacteristically loose and disheveled hair covering her face like a veil. Judging by the shaking of her thin shoulders and the tiny beads of moisture that only a Saiyan could see pooled on the floor beneath her, she had been crying. She apparently hadn't heard him come in the doorway, because she did not look up, nor did she seem to mind that she was dressed only in a sheer white nightie that clearly hadn't been picked out by her. Vejita absently noted his crumpled note and a hairbrush abandoned on the floor near the human queen.  
  
"Kakkarott will not tell anyone," he finally said, making her aware of his presence. "At least, not yet."  
  
Bulma started and whirled to face him, her tousled curls falling to either side of her tear-streaked face. Vejita was inwardly astonished that even marred as she was, with no makeup, she was still the most sexually alluring woman he'd ever seen. "How did you get in?" she asked, her voice unsteady. "Did you get my note?"  
  
"Through the balcony, and of course I did, woman. I wouldn't have came and risked running into your husband if I hadn't." Vejita approached her slowly, his calculating eyes taking in her stress. "I spoke to Kakkarott on the matter, and I would not have let the idiot go if I didn't trust him." He sounded more confident than he felt, he realized. But there was no need to alert Bulma of that.  
  
"I cannot believe that this is happening," Bulma muttered, sniffling and attempting to wipe away the tears that were still coming. "I knew that it was too good to last. I knew it."  
  
Vejita smirked in spite of himself. "Who said anything about ending it?" he asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub.  
  
Bulma blinked, seemingly confused. "But someone knows now. It would be fool-hardy to continue putting ourselves at such risk."  
  
"When was this not foolhardy?"  
  
"Never, I suppose," Bulma admitted with a frown. "But Kakkarott could tell at any given moment, and--"  
  
"Since when did I give a fuck what Kakkarott does with himself?" Vejita interjected. "Think of it this way-- whether we are discovered or not, our planets are still headed for war."  
  
Bulma contemplated his logic for a moment, her face masked by a curtain of curly hair. Vejita was most likely right, but now that she was going to start talking about the meetings in private, perhaps the mission could be salvaged. If she continued the affair, however, she would ultimately be condemning her planet to war.   
  
The torn woman lifted her eyes to Vejita, who was staring back at her with his black, unreadable eyes. She took in his tanned skin, darkly handsome features, and arrogant yet knowing demeanor and instinctively knew that she had found her match. When they were together, even Lord Byron seemed silly and boyish in comparison. As far as her heart went, she had made a decision. But it was her mind that had to be dealt with.  
  
The queen finally looked back up at Vejita, and no words had to be spoken. He could guess her decision just by looking at the expression on her face.  
  
Wordlessly, Bulma stood and closed the bathroom door, then approached Vejita, who merely smirked up at her from his sitting position. The girl smiled through her tears and reached out to trace the prince's muscular arms with her fingers, humming his song beneath her breath almost unconsciously. The prince needed no encouragement-- he had lashed out and pulled the woman into a straddling position before she was even aware of what he was doing. When he kissed her, she did not resist. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and closed her eyes in bliss.  
  
As his mouth traveled slowly down from her petal-soft lips to the nape of her neck, she moaned and titled her head back in pleasure. It never ceased to amaze her that with one kiss, Vejita could evoke more passion than her husband could throughout an entire bedding. Vejita was apparently enjoying the experience as much as she was, because his characteristic Saiyan tail had found its way to Bulma's exposed thigh, around which it wound itself in almost a contented manner.  
  
Since Vejita had no pressing desire to have sex in King Yamcha's bathroom, he went over his other options as he continued to caress the human queen's smooth, ivory skin. Apparently Nataliah, Bulma's maid, had gone to converse with other servants, because he could not sense her ki anywhere, nor Yamcha's.   
  
So, in a spur of the moment action, he hoisted Bulma up as he stood and exited the bathroom, which earned him a squeal of protest from the flustered woman.  
  
"What are you doing?" she demanded. "Nataliah or Yamcha could walk in at any moment!"  
  
Vejita shook his head as he set her down on the still unmade bed of her and her husband. "I will sense them as soon as they come within minutes of the room," he informed her confidently. "And besides, I rather like the idea of having you in Yamcha's own damned bed."  
  
Bulma could help but laugh at this playful comment, and did before her breath was stolen by another kiss.  
  
Neither monarch gave any thought to the possibility that Vejita might have been too distracted to sense a tiny human ki coming at them.  
  
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Across the palace, a guard just so happened to be walking past the meeting rooms when he heard the unmistakable sound of groaning coming from the room that was being used for negotiations with the humans. At first, he gave it no mind. But when the person inside started to speak almost incoherently, the man stopped in his tracks. The language being spoken was unaccented English, which could only mean one thing.  
  
"Aw, shit," the guard spat. This was going to make him even later to his shift, but he had to do it. Saiyans prided themselves on their unwavering honor, did they not?  
  
The human inside attempted to speak again, which successfully did away with any of the man's second thoughts. So, shaking his head, the guard entered the meeting room.  
  
He was greeted with the sight of King Yamcha himself clutching his empty wineglass, with tired eyes and a clear hangover. The human glanced up when he entered and grimaced.  
  
"Where can a man get a refill around here?" he demanded, throwing his glass at the guard's feet half-heartedly. "Kami-damned Saiyans..."  
  
The guard bristled at Yamcha's offending comment, and was tempted to leave him there, but had no choice but to assist the human guest. "I'll be escorting you back to your chambers now, Your Majesty."  
  
Luckily, Yamcha was becoming clear enough to stand and stumble over to the guard. "Fine," he managed. "But be quick about it. I've got a fucking headache."  
  
"Yessir," the guard replied dully, sneaking a look at the clock mounted on the wall. He was going to be later than he had originally planned.  
  
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In her chambers, Queen Magdalene paced nervously. From a safe distance away, one of her maids cowered, not daring to cross the queen while she was in such a foul mood. She had become known to possess a temper that could even match Vejita's at times.  
  
For some unexplainable reason, the woman could not seem to relax this morning. Blaming it on impending effects of the multiple martinis she had enjoyed the previous night, she had brushed it aside. But it still remained, and she was starting to think it more than just a hangover. No, it was that sixth sense that all mothers seemed to possess, that feeling that you got when there was something amidst in your child's life.  
  
She hadn't panicked yet, though, because she knew her son all too well. She had lived more than half of her life with this sinking feeling. He had been known to do countless things that had set her worrying. Usually, however, those feelings went away. And this one was not. She knew that he was alive, at least-- his ki had been partially masked, but it remained.  
  
Which meant that Vejita was partaking in something potentially dangerous. And, considering their diplomatic situation at the moment, they simply could not afford that. Not in the least.  
  
Magdalene's thoughts were interuppted when one of her servants hurriedly entered the room, approached the queen, and bowed, clearly uncomfortable with the news he carried.  
  
"Well?" Magdalene demanded, uncharacteristically. "What did you discover?"  
  
The servant swallowed nervously. "Nothing, Your Majesty. We could not find your son in the palace, nor in the public parts of the city."  
  
"Damn him, the stubborn ass," Magdalene muttered. If he could not be found, then she knew that he was hiding. On purpose. Which meant that he was doing something stupid. The over-experienced mother sighed heavily. Then, to her servant, "Continue searching. I want him found in time for afternoon tea."  
  
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Nataliah, after double-checking to make sure that her queen was alright, had slipped away to find a certain Saiyan that she had pressing business with. The handmaiden had quietly donned herself in a demure brown servant's gown and matching cloak, despite the sweltering climate of Vejitasei, and stolen away into the palace hallways.   
  
She had no idea where to search first-- she knew nothing of the Saiyan, nor of his daily habits. All that she knew of Saiyan males, really, was that they loved to train. So, mustering up her courage, she had headed for the training facilities, in search of none other than Kakkarott.  
  
The guards in front of the training facility stepped in front of her, their dark faces suspicious. Handmaidens clearly had no business in the facility here on Vejitasei, Nataliah gleaned.   
  
"What is your business here, girl?" one of the guards demanded. "This is the training facility, not the servants' quarters."  
  
"I am aware of that," Nataliah said, her eyes on the floor. If she had to go through more of this intimidating stuff, she would very well abandon her mission and return to Bulma, where she should have been. "I carry a message from Queen Bulma of Earth to the Saiyan Kakkarott, one that must be delivered immediately."  
  
The men looked at each other, as if they weren't sure whether to believe her or not, then turned back to look at her. The same man who had spoken before did so again.  
  
"Prove your claim," he barked, crossing his arms and glaring down at her.  
  
Nataliah was grateful that she had anticipated this. From inside her cloak she pulled out her ring of station, embellished with the crest of Earth's royal family. She showed this to each guard, then stowed it away in her cloak again. "Does that suffice?" she asked, growing impatient.  
  
"It does," the guard allowed. "You are lucky. Kakkarott arrived just moments ago, along with his brother Radditz, Nappa, and Turles."  
  
Nataliah curtsied as they opened the doors for her and allowed her to pass. "Thank you."  
  
The Saiyan men training in the facility stared as he walked past, and a few were even bold enough to call out after her.   
  
"Where is your lovely mistress?"  
  
"I have a message for you, sweetheart..."  
  
"Give my regards to your queen!"  
  
Nataliah colored slightly from beneath her hood, and walked faster to avoid them. Her wide, frightened brown eyes desperately searched the area for Kakkarott, but he was nowhere in sight. Just when she was about to break down into tears, a strong hand found its way onto her shoulder. The jumpy handmaiden gasped and turned to face her 'attacker'.  
  
Radditz stood before her, apparently as confused as she was upon recognizing her as Bulma's maid. "What are you doing here? This is no place for a human girl." Nataliah detected some mocking in his voice, and was hardly surprised, judging by what she had seen of him so far.  
  
"I came with a message for Kakkarott," she stammered. "I must speak with him immediately."  
  
The Saiyan raised an eyebrow, probably wondering just what she would have to talk about with Kakkarott. "If you insist. He's over in one of the private rooms. Follow me."  
  
Nataliah sighed in relief as she followed Radditz's broad back over to one of the many doors lining the walls. Inside the weight-lifting room was Kakkarott, Nappa, and Turles, who all looked up when she and Radditz entered.   
  
"I believe that this is Queen Bulma's handmaiden," Radditz said, with an uncaring shrug of his shoulders. "She wants to speak to you, bonehead."  
  
'Bonehead' must have been a common insult to Kakkarott, because he came forward with a friendly smile on his face. Nataliah felt instantly relaxed in his presence, and could hardly blame her lady for taking a liking to this man.  
  
Uncertainly, she glanced around at his companions. "I think that it would be better for us to speak alone," she said, hoping that the burly Saiyans wouldn't get offended and kill her. "I have something to discuss with you."  
  
Kakkarott glanced over his shoulder at his friends, then turned back to her with a somewhat dimmer smile. "Uh, sure. I think that I know of a place."  
  
Nataliah sighed in relief and followed him out of the room and into another one. Judging by the walls and walls of spare weights, treadmills, and the like, this was a storage room for the exercise equipment. Kakkarott was quick to assure her that no one ever came in this room, and that if anyone were eavesdropping, he would sense them right away.   
  
"Prince Vejita sent a note to my lady this morning," Nataliah began slowly. This was her last chance to back out, to keep her knowledge of Bulma and Vejita's affair to herself, where she could be certain that it was safe. But something told her to talk to Kakkarott, so she did. Her parents had always taught her to go with one's instincts, and she wasn't about to go back on her life's philosophy now. "It contained two words. 'Kakkarott knows'."  
  
It was impossible to tell what the man was thinking. Even though he was generally viewed as a dim, easy-to-read man, Kakkarott apparently knew how to guard a secret. Either that, or he had been threatened by Vejita, which Nataliah wouldn't doubt for a moment. "And what about that message made you come talk to me?"  
  
"I know what you know," Nataliah confided seriously. "And may Kami deliver me from the suffering that comes with it."  
  
Now Kakkarott's face opened, and his eyes showed a bit of interest. "What do you think you know?"  
  
"I saw my lady down on the coast, with Prince Vejita," she finally said. The memory was burned eternally in her mind. "And there was no mistaking what was happening. She was scantily clad, and behaving like I've never seen before. It is becoming increasingly obvious what has taken place, and I'm sure that it isn't likely to stop."  
  
"I'm so glad that I'm not the only one to know," Kakkarott breathed. "But then again... Does anyone else know about this? Are you sure that nobody else saw?"  
  
Nataliah shook her head. "I have told no one, and when I witnessed it, I was alone. I am loyal to my queen, even if what she is doing is not right. I will keep the secret until I have a pressing reason not to."  
  
"Me too," Kakkarott said. "But only because I like to see both Bulma and Vejita happy. I've never known Vejita to willingly take such a risk, so the... relationship must mean something to him. We've all wanted him to find a mate for a long time now." His face clouded over. "I just can't believe that the girl he finally decides is 'worthy' of him is married, and to Yamcha no less."  
  
"I, too, have noticed a difference in Bulma," Nataliah said. "She is much happier, much more independent as of late. Its a subtle change, because of Yamcha's presence, but it is there nonetheless. Yamcha abuses her in every way possible, and I would love nothing more than for my queen to be safe."  
  
Kakkarott shook his head. "This is a mess."  
  
"What should we do?" Nataliah asked, just as helpless as he was. "Keep the secret to ourselves?"  
  
The Saiyan considered, then nodded gravely. "Yeah-- we'll keep it to ourselves unless something happens. Until then..." He did not look happy at the prospect of carrying the burden any longer. "I guess we have to wait."  
  
Nataliah suddenly realized how long she had been gone. Her lady would no doubt take notice. "I must leave you now. Please contact me if anything happens," she said hurriedly, putting her hood back up.   
  
"I will, cross my heart and hope to die," Kakkarott promised, his face boyishly sincere. "As long as you do the same for me!"  
  
Nataliah grinned for perhaps the first time since arriving on Vejitasei, and copied his childish gesture of crossing her heart. "Cross my heart," she repeated as she turned to leave. "Thank you for your time."  
  
"Bye!" Kakkarott called after her.  
  
As she left the training facility, Nataliah felt herself relax a bit. The weight on her shoulders was slowly lifting with the fact that she was no longer alone in her knowledge of their empires' possible downfall.  
  
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"Do you believe in ghosts?"  
  
Vejita momentarily stopped his trail of kisses from Bulma's neck to her flat stomach and lifted a brow at her odd question. She was propped up in a half-sitting, half-laying postion on the large pillows of her husband's bed, her clear blue eyes half-closed in the dappled sunlight. Her hair had been allowed to remain loose, and it cascaded down her front in shining waves, much like those of the sea. The hair was the only covering she had for her naked body. As she asked her question, her gaze was towards the balcony, though Vejita could not fathom why.  
  
"What the hell kind of question is that?" His tone was brusque, but Bulma could sense some definite humor behind the tone. "Ghosts?"  
  
The queen smiled and nodded at the ajar doors of the balcony. "Well, apparently I was visited by one this morning. The doors certainly couldn't have opened themselves."  
  
Vejita shook his head and continued his ministrations, unfazed by her question. Usually, questions annoyed him, even when coming from his friends, but when Bulma asked them, the usual annoyance rolled right off of his back like rainwater, and he was left with only amusement. Strangely enough, he found the slender little human to be quite entertaining. "Would you rather have me walk the halls for everyone in the whole fucking palace to see?"  
  
Bulma leaned her head back against the headboard, allowing the soft waves of pleasure eminating through her to warm her all over. She regarded Vejita through slitted eyes, and from beneath dark lashes. "That would certainly take a large weight off of our shoulders, would it not?"  
  
"Yes," Vejita answered. He then sat up so that he was looking down at Bulma, his smirk growing slightly larger. "But then what would I do for fun?"  
  
"Ravage some other foreign monarch, perhaps?"  
  
Vejita did not find this suggestion funny. His smirk was transformed into a scowl of displeasure. "Sorry, but Yamcha isn't exactly my type. I prefer my men to fight instead of just bending over like a good little bitch." Bulma almost winced at his venomous tone, and wondered what it was that had agitated him so.  
  
"Whatever it is that I said wrong, I am sorry," she said, placing a hand on his arm as he turned away from her, still scowling. "I had no intentions of insulting you. After all, I am guilty of much the same thing."  
  
"Do not make such a foolish comment again," the prince said curtly.   
  
"I'll keep it in mind." Bulma wanted to get their first confrontaton over with already. She crawled over to Vejita and entwined her arms around his waist from behind. She knew that her foreplay was working, because she could feel his muscles relax a little beneath her hands. Bulma then turned her head so that her cheek was resting on his back and sighed contentedly. "Come back to bed now. We haven't much more time before Yamcha arrives."  
  
Vejita was still for so long that Bulma was beginning to fear that he was going to reject her, but then, as quick as he had earlier in the bathroom, he had turned and situated her carefully beneath him. The queen was overjoyed to see the lopsided smirk gracing his handsome face again, and giggled in response. The quiet, musical sound that Saiyans were so unaccustomed to hearing pleased Vejita's ears.  
  
"Then lets not waste it."  
  
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Down the hallway, Yamcha and the guard made their way slowly but surely back to the humans' chambers. The king was beginning to become more coherent and aware of the things around him, thanks to the long walk they were undertaking.  
  
"When will we get there already?" the human complained for the millionth time. "I haven't got time to waste dallying around in the hallways of this Kami-forsaken place."  
  
"Patience, Your Majesty," the guard said through gritted teeth. "We're nearly there."  
  
Yamcha crossed his arms, not wanting to believe this man. He had woken up in a bad mood, and was dying to take it out on somebody. Since he could not take it out on the guard without it being talked about all around the palace and soon the universe, his wife was that chosen person. But, how could he hit her if he never arrived at their chambers? Once again, he sighed heavily, just to let the guard know that he was unhappy.  
  
"Did my wife attend the fireworks last night?" he asked, out of nowhere. He vaguely recalled her bending over him the night before, saying something about fireworks. "Speak up, soldier!"  
  
The Saiyan man shrugged. "The entire Saiyan council attended, Majesty, but I am not sure about whether the queen was there or not."  
  
Yamcha frowned. If it was something that would displease him, he was sure that Bulma had ran off and done it. The stupid cunt. He couldn't wait to lay his hands on her. "Are we nearly there yet?"  
  
"Its just down this hallway, King Yamcha," the guard replied. After this, he would take extra care never to be in the same wing of the palace as this annoying son of a bitch. He could now see why Prince Vejita was in such a bad mood these days.   
  
Yamcha scowled at the guard as they approached his chambers, as if his hangover was entirely the other man's fault. The late man needed no encouragement-- he hurried off in the opposite direction without even so much as a bow. Yamcha, however, did not care. He could care less about some random Saiyan, especially in the mood that he was in. All that he wanted to do was get his hands on Bulma, that lying, sneaky bitch...  
  
Inside the room, that same 'lying, sneaky bitch', was actually engaged in a heated liplock with the Saiyan Prince, who was far too 'distracted' to sense the incoming ki. That is, until the unmistakable sound of a key turning the lock could be heard.  
  
"Fuck!" Quick as lightning, Vejita untangled himself from Bulma, hastily donned some clothes, and concealed himself behind one of the enormous draperies.  
  
Bulma, whose reactions couldn't possibly be so quick, hurriedly pulled her nightie over her naked body and ran a hand through her loose hair. Just as she was finishing, the door opened, and a very bedraggled-looking Yamcha was revealed. Without so much as a second glance at her, the human king turned and locked the door behind him. Bulma took the opprotunity to straighten her appearance at least a little bit.  
  
"Where have you been?" she dared to ask, her voice timid. "We had all assumed that you would wake sooner."  
  
Yamcha smiled an odd, almost psychotic smile and stepped a little closer. "Where I was... doesn't matter."  
  
Bulma put on her best face for him. Her stomach turned at the prospect of being civil to this man. "It mattered to me."  
  
"Why are you dressed like that?" was Yamcha's next odd question.  
  
"I chose to sleep in this morning," Bulma explained. "I almost just woke up."  
  
Vejita, from his vantage point behind the curtains, could not help but crack a smirk at her easy lie. Apparently Earth's nobility had plenty of practice. He was not, however, prepared for Yamcha's next move.  
  
The human man suddenly lunged at Bulma, the veins in his neck and forehead bulging in fury as he pinned the helpless and clearly terrified woman to the bed. "And where the fuck were you last night, you stupid whore?" he demanded, shaking the woman until it looked as if her eyes would roll permanently back into her head. "You went to the fireworks, didn't you? Didn't you?!"  
  
Bulma let out a strangled sob along with her reply. "I went with the queen, Yamcha-- the queen and no one else! I even told you before I left!"  
  
"Liar!" Yamcha spat. He took hold of his wife's thin arm and tossed her to the floor, where she cowered as he delivered a swift kick to her stomach area. "You were with other men-- Saiyan animals, no less! You willingly let them look at you, which makes you nothing more than a slut with an influencial name and a pretty face!"  
  
Vejita struggled to control his urge to run out and kill the man, but knew that he could not interfere. If he were seen, both he and Bulma would have to fare far worse than a beating. But that did not mean that it was easy. The Saiyan Prince gritted his teeth as more wounds were added to Bulma's just-healing old ones, by her own mate. It was most pathetic display he had ever seen.  
  
Bulma was now sobbing freely in terror of her own husband, clutching the floor as if she could hold on and sink right through, escaping the attack. "Yamcha!" she cried as the man continued his barrage up on her frail body. "Please... Stop it!"  
  
"Stop it?" Yamcha grinned manically. "Fine then-- I can understand your need for variety."  
  
  
  
Vejita watched in horror as Yamcha threw Bulma up the bed, spread her legs uncerimonously, and proceeded to rape her violently, laughing and shouting all the while. It was all the prince could do to keep quiet in his building rage.  
  
Bulma screamed in pain and angst as Yamcha forefully drove into her again and again, all the while knowing that her Saiyan lover was watching the degrading display from a short distance away, unable to help her. The queen felt as if her body were being ripped apart from the inside as Yamcha pumped away, driving her hard into the mattress upon which she had just made love to her husband's worst enemy.  
  
Yamcha grinned as his wife screamed and cried beneath him. "You see?" he shouted between pants. "This is how its always gonna be, if you continue to disobey me. And by the way, the resisting sensation that you're creating is extremely erotic."  
  
Bulma was unable to reply, as she was so lost in her cries and racking sobs. She could not go through this violation numbly, like she always had. Vejita was watching the entire thing. The queen wished that she had never been born, or that she had ended her life back when she should have, on her wedding night, where she had endured much the same treatment. But she hadn't, and here was, being raped and beaten by her own husband, as if paying for that decision.  
  
Finally, Yamcha came to his disgusting climax, and pulled out of her slowly. Even that small movement was painful-- Bulma could not help but cry out. Behind the curtain, Vejita thanked Kami that it was over.  
  
"Though I have to admit, for such a filthy piece of garbage, you always were a good fuck," Yamcha said, buttoning up his pants with a trimphant grin. "I'm off to train now-- cheers."  
  
Then, just as quickly as he had come (no pun intended), Yamcha was gone.  
  
Bulma collapsed from the bed to the floor, curling into a fetal position to indulge the searing pain between her legs and on the multiple new bruises she had suffered. Then the tears returned, and she was lost in sobs of agony and humiliation so intense that she felt as if she would die.  
  
Vejita stepped out from behind the curtains slowly, his melancholy, still red-tinged eyes studying the shaking woman as he approached. Then he knelt down beside her and reached out to turn her towards him. Shame and hurt were dominant in her features. "Don't feel shame, woman! Magdalene endured the same thing with my asshole father, and I am smart enough not to place the blame on you."  
  
"It hurts so much," Bulma whispered, peering up at Vejita through watery cerulean eyes. "Oh Kami... it hurts..."  
  
  
  
The prince gently returned her to a normal laying position and traced over her bruises, calculating. "These will heal in time," he assured her. "But in the meantime..." The Saiyan concentrated a small amount of ki into the tips of his fingers, just enough to warm them, and placed their soothing heat onto the worst of Bulma's bruises. "As for your interal injuries..." He meant the ones caused by Yamcha's disgusting manhood. "You've endured worse before, most likely, and know that time will take care of those. Then again, I could always heat my..."  
  
Bulma made a tiny smile. "You're so different," she murmured, reaching out to trace his jawline with a shaky finger. "Why is it that we met now, when nothing can be done?"  
  
Vejita could not deny that he had thought the same thing himself. "That's bullshit," he protested. "Something can be done, and it will be."  
  
"Kami help us to recognized the proper time." Bulma attempted to move towards Vejita, but the movement clearly cost her too much. Vejita frowned and assisted her, so that her head was propped up against his chest.  
  
And there they sat, in a comfortable silence, each wondering why life could be so unjust and unforgiving, with no signs of improvement in sight.  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
******   
  
FF.NET MEMBERS:: Hey everyone-- Yay! 300 reviews babay! Hopefully, with this longer, more action-packed (^_~) chapter, the response (as far as reviews go) will continue to soar. Thats all that I can hope for, you know? Well, I'm going to be at another horse show this weekend, so there won't be an update for another couple of days. But hey, you guys can wait! Right? .... Right? LOL, well please remember to REVIEW!!  
  
MEDIAMINER.ORG MEMBERS:: Umm-- two reviews! Woo... hoo.... ??  
  
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	18. Part Three: 18

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
  
  
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________________________~*Part Three*~: Diplomacy  
  
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After making sure that Bulma was comfortable in a warm, healing bath, Vejita used the balcony as a launch area to return back to his own chambers. There he would wash the sweet scent of Bulma and the sex they had partaken in off of his skin. It would not do to walk around with all of your secrets reeking off of you.   
  
Upon arriving there, he found a plain envelope sitting on his bed, sealed with his mother's emblem. With a sigh, the prince disposed of the offending paper without even reading it. He alread knew what it contained. The woman was looking for him, no doubt, assuming that he was getting in some sort of trouble (which he had been), without having any legitimate proof. He would deal with her, as well as the rest of the world, later.  
  
Now, all that he wanted was a long shower. But, as his luck usually went, he was prevented from achieving that. Because just then, Kakkarott came through the door, his goofy face worried.  
  
"Hey, Vejita!" he called, coming into the main room, where the prince waited, scowling. "Why weren't you training this morn-- Wow! What were you doing?!" His nose crinkled up as he caught the scent of Bulma and uh... adult activity coming from Vejita. Immediately, his face darkened.  
  
"Don't feed me any of your shitty lectures on danger right now, Kakkarott," Vejita snapped. "I don't need to hear it from you."  
  
"One of these days, someone else besides me is going to walk in and you'll be sorry that you didn't listen to me, Vejita-sama," the other man said, sounding suspicously like Magdalene. "I guess I know why you weren't training this morning now."  
  
The depressing attack on Bulma began to replay itself in Vejita's mind, and he almost wished that he had stayed in his own chambers and gone training instead. "I had more important things to tend to," he finally argued. "Wasting my time with you and the rest of those fools is hardly productive."  
  
Kakkarott raised an eyebrow in a way that made him almost look like a functional adult. "And sleeping with Queen Bulma is?"  
  
"Believe me, we weren't sleeping," Vejita quipped with a smirk. "Did you come here just to annoy me, Kakkarott, or is there a reason for your intrusion?"  
  
Kakkarott briefly considered telling him about his meeting with Nataliah, then dismissed the idea. Vejita did not need another reason to commit murder, and he did not feel like a savage beating. "Nope. I just wanted to know where you were."  
  
"Figures." Vejtia seemed to acceptt his answer and turned his back to Kakkarott. "I would like to shower without an audience."  
  
As Kakkarott left the room, he felt his stomach turn. He had found himself yet another secret burden to carry.  
  
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As soon as Magdalene's servant came to her with word of Vejita's whereabouts, she quickly donned a hand-embroidered robe over her dressing gown and hurried towards Vejita's chambers, as fast as her heeled shoes would allow. Now, she wasn't the kind of mother prone to overreactions, but this feeling... it was eating her alive.  
  
The queen marched right into her son's luxurious chambers without bothering to knock, which earned her a scowl from her son, who was just stepping out of his bathroom, wearing just a towel wrapped around his waist. It never ceased to amaze her just how much he looked like his father. She could only hope that he would decide to rule differently.  
  
"What is it with people and convienantly forgetting to knock today?" Vejita commented with an amused half-smile. He hid his anger at the morning's events well.  
  
"What have you been doing this morning?" Magdalene demanded, ignoring his remark completely. "And don't try any of your deceptive bullshit on me, Vejita, because I know that you were doing something seriously wrong."  
  
Vejita knew that he would have to make up one hell of a lie to fool his mother, who was not inclined to overreacting over nothing. So much for a relaxing after a shower... "I was with Kakkarott, in the city."  
  
Magdalene sat down in one of Vejita's leather chairs and raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh? Then why is that none of my servants could find you, even after conducting a citywide search? And just what were you doing that would raise red flags in my mind?"  
  
"Avoiding your idiot lackeys is not difficult to do," he responded, crossing his arms. He was getting sick of being questioned today. "And would harassing the street vendors risae your... 'red flags'?"  
  
Magdalene only pretended to believe her son's lie. "Again? Vejita, I am getting sick of apologizing to those poor men on your behalf. Please tell me that you didn't hospitalize this one?"  
  
"Unfortunately not. I seem to be losing my touch."  
  
"You are most definitely your father's son," Magdalene said with a sigh. "And may Kami have mercy on my soul for allowing such a thing to happen."  
  
Vejita scowled. "My father was a dishonorable coward. I am neither of those things, Magdalene, so don't feed me your 'woe is me' bullshit."  
  
"Its nice to know that you care," Magdalene snapped. Her son had made a disturbing habit of lying lately, and she did not like it in the least. "Dammit Vejita-- we are on the brink of war here! The last thing I need is you making trouble and getting tongues wagging."  
  
Vejita rolled his eyes. Magdalene didn't preach to him often, but when she did... look out. The only way to shut her up, usually, was to shock her with one of his trademark rude comments. But that would not work this time. It looked like he would have to talk his way out of this one... "What difference does it make, Magdalene? We're always at war with somebody, and we've always prevailed. Why start doubting now?" The prince adjusted the towel around his waist and moved to his minibar (purely Radditz's creation, back when partying had been the bane of their existence) to make himself and his mother a drink.  
  
"I know," the woman said, watching Vejita mix her drink with dark emerald eyes. "But somehow, this one is different. Yamcha came here to start this for a reason. The question on my mind is-- why? He must be planning something worthwhile."  
  
Vejita handed her a drink and stared at his own, thinking on her comments.  
  
"What's in this?" Magdalene asked. Then, with a wave of her hand, she dismissed the question. "You know what? I don't even care."  
  
"Perhaps it can be coaxed out of his woman."  
  
Magdalene took a sip of the drink, cringed, and shook her head. "No-- he wouldn't waste his breath telling her. What did you put in this thing?" She set the glass down with a look of disgust.  
  
Vejita smirked and downed his own without so much as a wince. "Enough vodka to make you forget all about your war. And everything else, for that matter."  
  
Magdalene stood and moved to the exit, rolling her uniquely-colored eyes as she went. "Everyone's right-- you are an asshole."   
  
She closed the door just in time to miss her son's mocking chuckle. Vodka-- guaranteed to chase anybody's mother anyway.  
  
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Much to Bulma's relief, Yamcha returned to their chambers just in time to prepare for that night's meeting. She was not amused, however, when on the way to the meeting rooms, he began to recall to her his day.  
  
"I chose to forgo training, as I met up with several rather attractive Saiyan women," he explained smugly. "They could not compare to you, of course, but they were nice-looking, nonetheless. Let me tell you, those Saiyans act and fuck like animals! I haven't experienced anything equal to that in... well, since this morning!"  
  
Bulma felt queasy already, and the area between her legs still hurt. "i hope that nobody saw you being unfaithful," she said quietly. The irony of the statement did not amuse her. "Rumors would be started."  
  
Yamcha shrugged nonchalantly. "I rather don't care what the Saiyans think of me," he stated boredly.  
  
Bulma personally thought that attitude to be quite foolish, considering that (at this rate) they would soon be dancing on the edge of war with these people, but did not share her opinion. Let the man think what he wanted-- there would be no convincing him otherwise. She decided to let the Saiyan council have the privelege of critiquing him tonight, since that's what they would surely do.  
  
"I don't approve of your leaving Nataliah behind again," Yamcha informed her quietly as the neared the meeting rooms. "Its hardly proper for a lady to be unaided."  
  
"We are not on Earth right now, Yamcha," Bulma reminded him, trying not to sound at all defiant. "No one thinks twice about it here."  
  
  
  
Yamcha did not have a chance to reply, because they found themselves at the doors of the grand room. Bulma gathered her courage as the guards bowed, then allowed them to enter. She had a feeling that she would be needing as much courage as she could get today.  
  
The entire Saiyan council had already assembled, as they had the day before, and once again they all stared at Bulma's outfit, once again chosen by Nataliah. This one was a strapless wrap of a smoky-gray material, particularly form-fitting so that it would stay in place. Judging by the appreciative glances of the men, including Vejita, the handmaiden had chosen well.  
  
"Welcome," Magdalene greeted as they took their seats.  
  
"Here we go again," Vejita grumbled, just loud enough for Yamcha to hear. "I wonder what fun and games are in store for us this time."  
  
"The last time we met, we were speaking on the subject of trade," Bardock started, shuffling some of the papers set before him.  
  
Vejita scowled. "And we got nowhere. Clearly, talking about this in small incliments is not working."  
  
Yamcha crossed his arms. "Then how would you propose that we do this?"  
  
"I say screw organization. We all know what this is about-- war." Vejita leaned back in his chair with a shark-like smile of a businessman. "So lets talk war."  
  
  
  
Magdalene started to protest, but Vejita shot her a glare that miraculously made her stop. The queen glanced over at Bulma with genuine fear in her eyes and took comfort in knowing that she was not alone in her worries-- Bulma gripped the arms of her chair until her knuckles went white.  
  
Yamcha seemed slightly impressed and interested at last. "So we finally see eye-to-eye. Go on."  
  
"I have learned throughout my experiences in planning for war that there are three basic components that must be discussed-- first, the terms, then the reason, and finally the battle itself," Vejita began seriously. "Once we have discussed those, then we can fairly judge whether we really want a battle or not."  
  
"Your Majesties, I strongly recommended that we choose another, more peaceful method of doing this," Bardock said. "These meetings have been organized so that we can avoid war, not promote it."  
  
Nappa glared at the old man. "You speak of what you do not know, Bardock. Perhaps if you were physically active, you would be more inclined to go along with your prince."  
  
"Come on, Father," Radditz prodded. "A Saiyan prides himself on his thirst for war."  
  
Turles rolled his eyes at the two's hasty actions. "You two had best shut up. Neither of you are at liberty to critique Bardock. He has fought in many more wars than the two of you have combined."  
  
  
  
"He is right," Bardock said. "I have."  
  
Kakkarott looked strangely downcast. Only Bulma and Vejita knew the true roots of his problems. "I don't like war, period. Too many innocent lives are lost."  
  
"I have to agree with Kakkarott," Magdalene put in. "Honestly, gentlemen-- think of the planets and the people you are putting at risk here."  
  
Bulma looked on, utterly frustrated, as the men and Magdalene debated, wishing that she could offer her opinions now rather than later. But, considering the foul mood Yamcha seemed to have settled in, that was not a good idea. So the queen watched helplessly as the bloodthirsty men duked it out verbally, snapping and snarling at each other like children. Once again, they were getting nowhere.  
  
"Bulma," Kakkarott called suddenly, causing all of the arguing around him to stop in mid-sentence. "What do you think about this?"  
  
The queen's mouth opened and closed silently, as she weighed her options. She could not just ignore Kakkarott, but the consequences of her speaking up were far worse. Yet, the woman desperately wanted a say in the matter, before it was too late. Magdalene and Vejita both studied her intently, thinking much the same thing as she was. Beside her, Yamcha downed another glass of wine, glaring at her as if daring even one word to cross her painted lips. Finally, she spoke. "War should be discussed only as a last resort. We are here to make up a treaty, and it appears as if we are breaching it already."  
  
"I agree with you," Kakkarott said, seeming to have forgotten the danger he was putting her in. Bulma silently willed him not to ask her any more questions. Thankfully, Kami went in her favor today. "Why can't we just act like responsible adults and talk this over?"  
  
Vejita scowled, but seemed to still not be convinced. "Fine, Kakkarott," he relented grudgingly. "But mark my words, this treaty shit is a waste of time."  
  
Yamcha glared at the prince from across the table and signalled for more wine. "Thanks for your confidence in us, Prince Vejita."  
  
"You're welcome," Vejita answered flatly, his menacing eyes locked on Yamcha, as if trying to get him to crack under the pressure of his glare. It should have worked-- even Bulma was squirming in her chair. But the effects of the liquor clearly strengthened her husband's resolve.  
  
"Now, moving on to more productive things..." Bulma tuned out Bardock's clear, even voice and snuck a peek over at Vejita.   
  
He seemed to be listening to Bardock intently, though it was obvious by his bored expression and angry frown that he was not taking it seriously. In a way, Bulma could understand why. It was no secret that Yamcha wanted war and nothing else, but at the same time, the queen wished that the hotheaded prince would think about at least trying to convince Yamcha otherwise.   
  
All of that got Bulma to thinking of what would become of her, in case of a war. Her good judgement led her to stay with her husband and home planet, but her heart was telling her otherwise. More than anything, she wanted to stay with Vejita, on a planet of people that accepted her as more than pretty face and Yamcha's trophy. If she stayed here, she could live her life normally, without having to worry about what was 'proper', or 'ladylike', or about what the snobby courtiers thought of her.  
  
On a whim, she glanced over at Vejita again, imagining all of the possibilities. Somehow, he must have felt her eyes, because he looked away from where Yamcha and Turles argued and directly back at her. The bold prince dared to smirk, and Bulma indulged him in a small smile. Their eye contact then abruptly ended when Magdalene suddenly put a hand on her Vejita's arm, asking him what his opinion was on something or other. Bulma averted her eyes to her lap and blushed in spite of herself, praying that Magdalene had not seen.  
  
Unbeknowest ot both Bulma and Vejita, the Saiyan Queen had seen it all. The tell-all smirk, Bulma's unmistakable emotion behind her grin, adn even the young woman's faint, becoming blush. The lurking suspicion that she had been entertaining for some time now resurfaced.   
  
Magdalene could not stand by any longer. Something had to be done. Soon.  
  
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Surprisingly, Yamcha did not pass out until he reached their chambers. Bulma hadn't even expected him to make it through the meeting, which had ended with little more success in discussing peace. The whole of the meeting had consisted of Yamcha and Vejita arguing about war, with Bardock, Kakkarott, and Magdalene vying for peace, and Nappa, Radditz, and Turles seemingly neutral, though certainly eager to jump into any given arguement. Bulma, of course, had been perfectly silent.  
  
Nataliah assisted her now in unpinning her long curls, humming a pleasant Russian folktune under her breath. Bulma indulged herself in the sinfully delicious chocolates that Magdalene had sent to her, while staring back at her reflection in her vanity mirror. She hadn't spoken since Yamcha had passed out, apparently still thinking about the meeting... or Prince Vejita, Nataliah mused to herself.  
  
"Did the meeting not go well?" Nataliah asked, breaking the silence. "You looked grim when you arrived, m'lady."  
  
"No, it did not go smoothly," Bulma confided absently. "How many of these chocolates do you suppose it would take to make me fat?"  
  
Nataliah blinked at the odd question. "I haven't the slightest idea, m'lady. Why do you ask?"  
  
Bulma ran a hand over her slim torso, tilting her head as if looking at her profile for the first time in a while. "Perhaps if I became overweight, Yamcha would leave me alone, and I coud live a normal life."  
  
"Oh, even if you were fat, your face would betray you, Your Majesty," Nataliah replied. "You will always be beautiful."  
  
"Then may Kami soon deliver me from this suffering," Bulma stated quietly. "Leave me alone now, Nataliah. I can undo my own hair."  
  
Nataliah recognized her lady's desire to be alone with her sorrows, and wordlessly wen to her own chambers to deal with hers, leaving Bulma alone to do as she pleased.  
  
The queen did not move from her place at the vanity. Azure cat-eyes stared hollowly back at her in the mirror, as if mocking her predicament. She had been foolish to even think about living on Vejitasei during the meeting, because now she was plagued by the hopelessness that came with every far-fetched fantasy. She had been sitting there for some time when a hand reached over to cover her mouth and stifle her scream.  
  
"Stop your screaming," Vejita whispered into her ear. "Can I trust you to keep quiet now?"  
  
Bulma, who was both surprised and pleased to have him next to her, nodded and sighed when he withdrew his hand. "What are you doing here?" she demanded in a harsh whisper. "And must you always startle me like that?"  
  
Vejita proved to be smirking in amusement when Bulma stood and turned to him, with a wary glance at Yamcha's snoring form and Nataliah's closed door. "We have to discuss the meeting sometime," he said, already heading for the balcony. Bulma had a feeling that discussing the meeting was the last thing that he wanted to do. "And there's no better time than the present. Or at least, thats what my son of a bitch father used to say."  
  
"Where are we going then?" Bulma asked, following him onto the balcony.   
  
"Down to the ocean."  
  
"The ocean?" Bulma's heart skipped a few beats. "But I'm hardly dressed for that..."  
  
Vejita took in her loose white dressing gown, half-pinned hair, and bare feet wtih appreciative eyes. "You'll be fine," he assured her. "Besides, who the hell's going to see you so late at night?"  
  
"I suppose you're right..."  
  
"Then hurry up and come over here," Vejita chided. "I'm going to have to fly you to the coast."  
  
"I am so glad that we're going down to the ocean again," Bulma breathed as she allowed the Saiyan to pick her up and move to the railing of the balcony. "Are you sure that no one will be down there?"  
  
Vejita half-grinned oddly, as if he had something up his sleeve. He easily maneuvered Bulma within his arms as he left the solid ground of the palace and took to the sky. "No one would venture to this particular spot unless they had a pressing desire to drown," he assured her.  
  
"That is, no one aside from you," Bulma corrected. Strangely enough, she felt no fear at his comment. She trusted the bold man's judgement.  
  
"And now you," he replied. "You don't seem afraid at the prospect of having your body battered against the rocks along the coast either, woman."  
  
Bulma's playful smile grew more serious, and she felt no qualms as she looked the menacing prince in the eyes. "I trust you," she said softly.  
  
Vejita seemed a little uneasy with her reply. He had not been expecting a serious comment. "Famous last words, especially where I am involved."  
  
"One more foolish action could hardly make things worse," she said.  
  
"Never underestimate such a serious situation, woman," Vejita advised her. "Of all things, that is what you must never do."  
  
The remainder of the flight to Vejita's spot along the coast was passed in silence. Both parties were daring to imagine what could and most likely would happen, and both knowing that with every precious moment spent together, they were heightening the stakes.   
  
Finally, the arrived at their location, a large rock jutting above the water, precariously placed between the cliffs that made up the shore and the vast ocean, therefore receiving the worst of the waves and being submerged covered in high tide. At this time, however, the rock was surrounding by still, pristine water and pale moonlight. As soon as Vejita landed, his human companion rushed to the edge of the rock and dipped a foot into the cool water.  
  
"Do you come here often?" Bulma asked as she carefully sat on the edge of the rock, mindful of her delicate nightgown.  
  
Vejita sat beside her and gazed out to sea, his black eyes thoughtful. "I come here when I want to be alone, and when I want to do serious thinking without being distracted by Kakkarott or any of the other dumbasses in the palace."  
  
"It seems like a good place for that sort of thing," Bulma agreed, shredding a piece of stray seaweed between pale fingers. She then, in a sudden burst of frustratin, cast the plant violently aside and glared down at the water. "You are so lucky," she vented, her blue eyes smoldering. "You have everything that one could ever dream of-- private, quiet places, clean oceans, accepting people-- it isn't fair! How can one person have so much, when so many others have so little?"  
  
Vejita, surprised at the uncharacteristic outburst, did not know what to say. "No planet is perfect, even this one. Your home has just fallen victim to more flaws than others-- shitty rulers being one of them."  
  
"Before I came here, I thought that I would hate this place," Bulma confided. "I had always heard stories of savage warriors and unwelcoming, overcrowded cities. But once I came to see it for myself, you have more beauty and tolerance here than anyone on Earth could ever dream of. Back home, women practically live their lives in cages, but here... they are treated as equals, and not porcelain dolls. You even have a female ruler-- a person would be condemned from even thinking of such an outlandish thing. I hate it! Not because of simple jealously, but because I know that after I return home, I will have left my heart behind, as well as you." No tears came this time-- Bulma was beyond that point now. "I hate the thought that I'll have to return to being Yamcha's whore, going about the same routine every day for the rest of my life. I don't want to die a miserable, lonely old woman locked up in a corset. Could you blame me for that?"  
  
"It doesn't have to be that way," Vejita suggested gravely, catching a loose lock of her hair and examining it within his fingers. "I could kill him tonight, and all your troubles would be gone." He could not stop picturing her screaming and crying as Yamcha ravaged her, laughing all the while. He was not lying-- he would have taken great pleasure in murdering him. "I would enjoy his blood on my hands."  
  
"As much as I would love for that to happen, you musn't do it." Bulma shook her head so that the strand of hair slipped out of his hands and frowned. "You and I both know that if you did that, a war would be started and we would both be punished for our crimes. Your mother would have no choice but to see the truth and do what is right. I cannot allow that to happen just because of my own selfishness."  
  
Vejita regarded her seriously with his alluring, dangerously intriguing black eyes, and Bulma know that it would take all of her strength to refuse his plans. "Not selfishness. Everyone has a right to obtain happiness, do they not? I am not opposed to pulling a few strings-- or limbs-- to help you, or rather, both of us, reach that goal." The Saiyan ran his hands up the woman's arms with a smirk. She truly was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. That alone was worth fighting for. "It would be child's play to set the bastard up in any number of ways-- poison, alcohol, an accident-- name your means."  
  
Bulma was now finally getting a glimpse of the killer he was known as. "No. There are too many risks involved."  
  
"Then how the hell do you propose that you estrange yourself from him?!" Vejita demanded.  
  
"I do not yet know," she replied. Her tilted blue eyes came to rest on Vejita, and he found them to be filled with compassion. Then the woman slid into his arms, taking comfort in his strong embrace. "Perhaps a means will not have to be decided. With the way the negotiations are going, war seems inevitable. Perhaps... there isn't even a way." The woman nearly cried out in grief at the thought that there might not even be a way for her to obtain a happy ending.   
  
"I will not even consider such a thing," Vejita said. "I can certainly speed up the war process, however."  
  
"Must you always promote violence? Yamcha will use it against you," Bulma advised him. "Bide your time. Yamcha will announce war soon enough."  
  
"Yes, when he was created enough technology to crush us!" Vejita protested, moving away from her. "I will waste time no longer-- tomorrow motions toward war will be made."  
  
Bulma knew recklessness when she saw it, and knew that initiating war was what Vejita must not do. But, judging by his fierce expression and pride, he would not easily be perseuded otherwise. Hot tears of despair welled up in her eyes, and were not lost on the prince. He turned the woman to face him (for she had turned away from him in shame) and was dismayed to witness her tears of helplessness for himself.  
  
"Why do you cry, woman?" he inquired as gently as Bulma had ever heard him. "This should delight you-- soon your husband will be dead."  
  
"I do not think that this will go over as planned," Bulma whispered, as if someone might overhear them. "I have a feeling that there is more to this than you think. Please do not start a war-- I cannot even begin to tell you how horrible it could get."  
  
Vejita seemed amused at her 'foolish' fears and premonitions, but did not think less of the queen for thinking them. She would be, after all, in the middle of everything. He took her chin in one hand and looked her solemnly in the eyes. "I brought you here to relax, woman, not to set you sobbing. Tell me what will stop your pointless despairing."  
  
Bulma didn't have to think twice about her answer. "Don't go through with this plan. Above all things, that would bring me solace."  
  
Vejita leaned forward to share with her a short, soft kiss, and then grinned lazily. "Fine. I shall forget all about war for the time being. Does that satisfy you?"  
  
"Yes," she replied. The easy smile that came to her perfect face let Vejita know that she had accepted his easy lie.  
  
Part of him felt guilty for telling her such a serious untruth, but his cunning mind got the best of him. It was the only reasonable way to get what he wanted, and Bulma did not have to know about it.   
  
At least, not until the war was over.  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
******   
  
FF.NET MEMBERS:: Ugh! Can you believe these awful changes that have been happening around here?? They changed my pen name... Above all things, that is what pisses me off the most. And I have more fics posted than the other Rhapsody! Geez, there's no justice in the world today. Now I have to think of another pen name with 'Rhapsody' still in it, because I refuse to remain a number! Maybe you guys could help me out with that... ^_~ I would greaty appreciate all suggestions. Anyway, I'm sorry for the longish wait. I made this chapter a little bit longer to make up for part of that. So, until the next chapter... Oh yes, and in response to another reviewer (forgot the name, I'm sorry!) I don't WATCH horse shows, I show in them... I show dressage.  
  
Note to DBZ Fanfiction Queen: Just a word on your 'tone it down' review. That's the way that I write, so I don't think that I can completely take out the sex without ruining the storyline, ya know? I'll try to tone down the scenes where the sex does happen, but don't expect Bulma to be wearing a chastity belt anytime soon, LOL! Hopefully, you'll be happy with that. The fic's rated 'R' for a reason, dear! Thanks bunches for your honesty and faithful reviewing! As always, I will forever be grateful to you for that.  
  
MEDIAMINER.ORG MEMBERS:: Yay! More reviews! I'm glad to see that you guys are finally warming to me... Hehe, at least, I think thats whats happening. Until Chapter Nineteen...  
  
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	19. Part Three: 19

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Bulma returned to she and Yamcha's chambers that night without waking either husband or Nataliah, thank Kami. After seeing Vejita off with a burst of blue light, she remained out on the balcony, watching the waves below with wistful eyes.  
  
This night, for some reason, seemed much more poignant than any of the lovemaking they had done in the past. They had not needed sex to make this meeting special-- all that they had needed was each other. Bulma had been shocked when, after agreeing not to declare war without a good reason, Vejita had actually decided to make decent conversation.   
  
She had sat within the comfort of his muscular embrace, utterly enraptured, as he named off the titles of all the surrounding stars and planets, along with descriptios of their relations with Vejitasei. When Bulma had asked how he had memorized the names of the stars, he explained that it was something that all Saiyans were taught, to show them that there was a whole other universe out there. Bulma thought the practice to be brilliant-- what better way to show citizens that the universe did not revolved around their planet but literally? They had nothing of the sort on Earth-- it was the general belief that they were superior.  
  
But what was even more amazing than the prince's stargazing was his knowledge of the sea. Apparently, here on Vejitasei, they had a popular activity where people of any status could dive beneath the surface, aided by a breathing device, and explore the world beneath the ocean. She had learned that 'coral' was not just a tacky shade of pink, and that one could find pearls-- genuine pearls!-- in the mouth of a clam. It all made Bulma feel very ignorant and sheltered, but at the same time fascinated. At that moment, she had wanted to go and see these wonders for herself more than anything else.  
  
Their conversation had been forced to an end when the first warnings of dawn appeared over the horizon, and they both came to their senses. Bulma had cast one last, longing look at the tiny island before Vejita had taken her away and known that its location would remian in her mind forever. It was the place where she had discovered that her relationship with the Saiyan Prince was much more than lust. At least, on her end it was. For the moment, the queen was content with that.  
  
From inside the room, Bulma heard Yamcha turn over and knew that her leisure had ended. With a sigh, she moved back into their chambers and approached the bed, where Yamcha had commenced snoring.   
  
It was going to be a long night.  
  
And she was correct. For almost as soon as she feel asleep, Bulma was plagued with nightmares that caused her to whimper and even cry out several times during the night.  
  
In her dream, she was standing at the entrance of the palace back on Earth, with Yamcha standing directly behind her, as if to gauge her reaction to something. All around them, chaos stirred the night. Fires burned in the city before them, and even in portions of the palace itself.   
  
Citizens screamed and ran, trying to shield their small children from the soldiers that attacked them from every direction. Bulma gasped and strained to see if the soldiers were human or Saiyan, but their faces were blurred in her vision. No matter what their race, the warriors visciously slaughtered the innocent humans with heavy axes, sharply honed swords, and even set them afire with torches. Bulma watched in horror as they guffawed and even went so far as to play with some of the bodies.  
  
Yamcha did not seem at all inclined to stop the slaugther. He instead watched it like a movie, his face emotionless. When Bulma turned to him in protest, however, he grinned.  
  
"Just think, darling," he said, his voice roaring above the noise of the attacks. "You are the reason that this is all happening!"  
  
All of the soldiers, plus Yamcha, laughed hysterically at the horrifying statement. The victims, even the 'dead' ones, turned to her and glared. Everyone believed her husband, and looked as if they would slaughter her on the spot.  
  
Then Lady Briefs appeared by her daughter's side, smiling an amused, taunting smile. "You see what can be acheived when you're beautiful? Hell girl, even the most coldhearted of men would start wars to have you in his bed!"  
  
"But that will never come to pass," Yamcha assured her, as if he were comforting the queen. "You will always be mine."  
  
Bulma shook her head, her eyes wide as saucers. "No-- I am nobody's but my own!"  
  
"She is nobody's but mine!"  
  
The three turned to see Prince Vejita and his entire elite guard coming at them. The crowd parted before them like the Red Sea, then continued their battle. Vejita looked especially dashing in black and crimson armor. He carried a blood-stained sword, and in the other hand, Nataliah's severed head. Why would Vejita want to kill Nataliah? Bulma briefly wondered.  
  
"I will not leave this shithole unless I have her," he declared with a daring, almost bloodthirsty smirk. "Even if it means castrating you to acheive that."  
  
Bulma surveyed the scene with growing terror and dread. There would be no happy ending to this situation. "I belong to only myself!" she exclaimed again. "I will go where I please!"  
  
Suddenly, a chain and shackle appeared around her neck, and Yamcha was dragging her back towards him, with the help of her mother. Vejita raised his sword in warning. Bulma struggled against the restraints until she came to the point of strangling.   
  
Something was happening directly above her-- a swordfight-- but she found that she could not see the action. Blood rained down on her like sheets-- Yamcha's or Vejita's, she did not know. She screamed as the blood seeped into her nostrils and mouth, almost suffocating her with its scarlet thickness.  
  
The last thing that Bulma saw was Maylene and Queen Magdalene bending over her, and then she began to drown in the blood.  
  
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Bulma awoke from her dream still sputtering and choking on the 'blood' that had been raining down on her. By the time Nataliah had rushed over to her side, the queen's eyes had rolled back into her head, and her desperate cries had waken Yamcha from his deep, alcohol-induced slumber.  
  
"What the fuck is she doing?!" he demanded, sitting up in bed and blinking the sleep out of his eyes. "Silence her immediately."  
  
Bulma looked pale as a sheet, even in the dappled morning sunlight. Her slender arms wrapped around her torso tightly, and she began to murmur almost inaudibly. Only Nataliah was able to make out her words. "I'm choking-- hold me... Prince Vejita..."  
  
The handmaiden shook her queen awake before she could utter anything that would give her affair away. "Wake up, m'lady! You are not choking-- you are safe in bed!"  
  
Blue eyes refocused, and Bulma looked at her surroundings as if confused. "I am where?" she asked.  
  
"In your chambers, in bed," Nataliah reminded her. "You must have had a nightmare."  
  
"I'll say," Yamcha complained. "You could have awaken the dead with those screams."  
  
"I-- I am sorry..." Bulma apologized lamely. "It will not happen again."  
  
The queen brushed Nataliah's assistance away as she stood shakily and scrambled to the bathroom. Sitting on the counter was the pen and paper that she had neglected to put away the previous morning. She tore off a sheet, struggled to handle the pen with her shaky fingers, and scribbled down a message.  
  
'Vejita-- I have had a premonition. War must be avoided at all costs. Find me before the meeting tonight. Bulma.'  
  
She did not know for certain whose blood she had been drowning in, but the queen was not about to take any chances. Premoniton or not, the dream could not be avoided. If a war was started, it would be the end of both empires.  
  
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Kakkarott, Nappa, Radditz, and even Turles, who was notorious for being late to everything from casual lunch dates to royal functions, had assembled and commenced warming up before Prince Vejita arrived, barechested with a towel slung over one shoulder. The men, who were accustomed to having Vejita arrive hours before them, at the crack of dawn without fail, were shocked to say the least. It was only Kakkarott, however, that could take an accurate stab at where he had been.  
  
"Good morning," Turles greeted sarcastically. "Am I mistaken, or is His Highness late this morning?"  
  
Vejita didn't even favor the man with a glare. As he spoke, he busied himself wrapping his knuckles in preparation for the boxing they had planned to do. "No. I am only late when I choose to be. If I arrived even an hour from now, I would not be late-- you would be early. And you are not at liberty to talk on the matter anyway, Turles. If I am recalling correctly, you were forty-five minutes late for your own coming-of-age party."  
  
"But people expect such from me, Vejita-sama," Turles protested in defense of himself. "You, on the other hand, are known to always be prompt, so its hardly the same."  
  
"He's got a point there," Radditz said. "I mean, without you, how could we possibly go on with our small, meaningless lives?" The man then burst into peals of laughter, along with Nappa.  
  
"Aw, leave him alone," Kakkarott interuppted. "One of these days, he will be your king, and you three's comments will earn you a beheading."  
  
"A beheading?" Vejita shook his head. "I had something much slower and agonizing in mind..."  
  
"Oh, come on," Nappa pleaded. "You've known us too long to kill us."  
  
Vejita smirked. "You're right. Since I know you so well, I know that death is much too kind a fate for the likes of you." And with that, the conversation quickly ended, because no one was really sure whether or not the volatile prince was serious.  
  
Predicatably enough, Vejita found himself with a grim-faced Kakkarott as a boxing partner, and rolled his eyes. "Here to mother me again, third-class?"  
  
After checking to make sure that the others were out of earshot, Kakkarott spoke between half-hearted blows. "You might laugh at me now, but when war comes you'll be singing a different tune."  
  
The mention of singing reminded Vejita of his planned meeting with Bulma in the room with the piano later that day. After receiving her short note, he had immediately arranged for the guards to be off duty for the day and replied with a note of his own-- 'Piano. 2:00. Leave your handmaiden behind.' He wondered what had startled Bulma enough to risk them being caught together. It must have been serious, or-- Vejita's period of distraction was abruptly ended when Kakkarott's first connected with his face.  
  
"You're distracted," Kakkarott said. "Something must have happened."  
  
"I was up late last night," Vejita claimed. "I am tired."  
  
"That's a lie," his opponent stated bluntly, with a seriousness that Vejita had rarely seen in him besides at the meetings. "You were with her again."  
  
Vejita, seeing no point in denying the balantly obvious, glared as he spoke. "We did nothing besides speak on the damned meeting. And its hardly your place to reprimand me, Kakkarott!"  
  
"You could trigger a war by meeting together recklessly. And upsetting your routine!"  
  
Vejita assaulted Kakkarott suddenly and violently, his teeth gritted in anger. "Don't you understand?" he demanded as he drove the other man back mercilessly. "I don't fucking care anymore! Got it?!"  
  
"I can't believe that you honestly don't care about the future of your planet," Kakkarott said, almost as if trying to convince himself of that fact.  
  
"Did it ever occur to you that not everyone around here wants to apply for sainthood?" Vejita snapped, blocking the latest of Kakkarott's attacks.  
  
Kakkarott, seeing that subtley was getting him nowhere and that their comrades were distracted, decided to drop the bombshell on the overly cocky prince. "Did it ever occur to you that Bulma may become affected by all this? If you two were to reveal anything about your... relationship, accidentally or otherwise, Yamcha would have her punished, but only after he tortured her himself. You don't have just yourself to think of anymore. And besides, your recklessness has paid off already-- Bulma's maid already knows about you two."  
  
Vejita's expression changed from doubtful, to guarded and calculating, then to murderous rage in a matter of moments. Furiously, the man pinned Kakkarott to the wall, glanced over his shoulder to be sure that they weren't being watched, then turned back to Kakkarott with a malicious gleam in his eye. "How do you know this, fool?"  
  
Kakkarott knew that now was not the time to make excuses. "She accidentally read one of your notes to Bulma and found out that I knew something. And since she saw you with Bulma by teh ocean, she could guess what it was that I knew. So she came to me and I told her to keep quiet. And she has so far, so there's no need for dramatics, you know?" The man attempted a reassuring smile.  
  
"She'll go to Yamcha soon enough," Vejita said matter-of-factly. Then he tightened his grip on Kakkarott's throat. "Why didn't you tell me sooner, you fucking moron?!"  
  
"Because I wanted to make sure that you were in a good mood before I told you... ?"  
  
"Good job."  
  
Kakkarott shrugged. "It just came out. You see, Vejita? Who knows who else might know? You can't keep on doing this."  
  
Vejita could not reply, because the others had stopped fighting and were glancing over more than a little suspciously. The prince scowled and motioned for them to leave he and Kakkarott alone. The men, intimidated by the angry demeanor of their prince, left immediately. "You don't have a clue, Kakkarott. How could I just... stop seeing the woman? I would have to be either blind or stupid to do that, and I am neither!" It was the closest he had ever come to confiding his true feelings in Kakkarott thus far, and he hated himself for it.  
  
  
  
"I know what its like to love somebody," Kakkarott said. "I love Chichi, and I would do anything for her, but to bring down two empires... that would be a bit much. Neither Chichi nor Bulma would want that to happen."  
  
"Where do you get the notion that we will lose?" Vejita asked, crossing his arms and releasing Kakkarott, who sighed in relief. "We have more men, better strength, and centuries of war experience-- how the hell couldn't we win? All we need is good timing."  
  
"Yamcha isn't that stupid. He wouldn't have come here if he didn't have some way of beating us."  
  
"You underestimate me," Vejita snarled in frustration. "I know that he is making preparations as we speak, which is why I want war now, before he can gather strength."  
  
"And so that you can take Bulma before he finds you out and guards her," Kakkarott finished for him.  
  
"Here we go again--"  
  
"Please hear me out, Vejita," Kakkarott asked, cutting off the prince's complaint. "Just this once, take somebody's advice."  
  
"The hell I will," Vejita dismissed coldly. "I will take what's mine and have a war as well as the woman, Kakkarott, and you will obey your prince's orders."  
  
Kakkarott felt his heart sink. He no longer had a choice in this matter. It had gone beyond friends and right down to executive orders. "Yes, Vejita-sama."  
  
"Now get out of my sight before I decide to get rid of you and your ignorant opinions!"  
  
Kakkarott needed no encouragement. But before he left, he turned and gave his superior one more piece of advice. "Don't tell Bulma about her handmaiden. She doesn't need another reason to be depressed."  
  
Vejita contemplated this after Kakkarott left, and opted to follow the man's advice, just this once. He would take care of the meddling Nataliah himself.  
  
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Soon after sending the note to Prince Vejita, Bulma hurriedly dressed (after Yamcha had left the room, doubtless to marr his reputation making mischief) and nearly ran from the room before Nataliah could utter so much as a word, muttering about going for a nice long walk through the palace.  
  
Nataliah, now left completely alone and confused, could do nothing but shake her head and go about straightening the chambers before Yamcha returned to complain about it. She didn't really mind the work-- she had been cleaning house since she had been a child, and besides, it gave her some time to think. That was something that she desperately needed right now.  
  
The handmaiden padded over to the bathroom, humming a random tune under her breath. Yamcha hated it when she did that, so she may as well enjoy it while she could, was her figuring. She bent down, careful of her plain blue servant's wrap, and proceeded to fish some cleaning solution out of the space beneath the sink.   
  
In Bulma's haste to get herself made up, she had made a fair mess of the counter. Powder makeup was sprinkled across the marble like brightly colored snow, and several pots of lip stain had been opened and overturned. Nataliah shook her head and began to gather the makeup up. Where on Vejitasei would Bulma need to go so suddenly? All that Nataliah knew was that it likely had to do with Vejita.  
  
Once the makeup was organized, Nataliah was able to scrub down the countertop, watching as the colors blended together in a cosmetic rainbow. Unbeknowest to her, it would be the last rainbow that she would ever have the pleasure of seeing.  
  
From the main room, the woman heard someone enter. Assuming that it was Bulma, returning to retrieve her handbag or something of the sort, she smiled and continued her cleaning. It would not do to alarm the lady any more with unnecessary messes.  
  
"Where did you go, m'lady?" she called out, scrubbing away innocently. "Do you require my help with anything?"  
  
Silence, save for the gentle lapping of the ocean waves outside, was her answer. The girl stopped scrubbing and furrowed her brow, worried about the queen.  
  
"I hope that you weren't too disturbed over your nightmare last night," she continued with a frown. "Drowning in blood is terrifying, but at least you know that it could never happen."  
  
Suddenly the girl was attacked from behind. She tried to scream, but when her assailant twisted her arms behind her back violently, the pain was almost too much to bear. Her scream was caught in her throat.  
  
"I don't know about that. How would you like to test that theory, you annoying little snoop?"  
  
Nataliah was so shocked that all thoughts of struggling vanished. "Prince Vejita! But why, and how--"  
  
The Saiyan chuckled. "Lets just say that a little bird told me. It so much more charming that way."  
  
"I swear, I didn't tell a soul!" Nataliah insisted. "Besides Kakkarott, I know of no one else who knows!"  
  
"Well, I can't risk that," Vejita responded. He then released her and closed the bathroom door. Nataliah shuddered when she saw the glint of a knife in one of his strong hands. "Where are your charges?"  
  
"I do not know where King Yamcha is," she managed, her voice unsteady with dread. "Queen Bulma got dressed quicker than I've ever seen her after she sent you the note and said that she was going to walk through the palace."  
  
"Alone?"  
  
Nataliah nodded, eyes wide.  
  
"Good."  
  
"Are you going to harm her, Your Highness?" She could not help but worry for her kind lady, even as her own life was in danger. "Please don't-- she has lived her whole life in such misery and depression, and all she wants is a chance to be free--"  
  
"I have no intention to harm her," Vejita stated, smirking slowly. A cold chill ran up Nataliah's spine as his black eyes locked onto her. "I cannot say the same, however, about you."  
  
"I will not tell a soul, I swear to it!" Nataliah began backing away from him slowly, holding out her hands in a feeble defense. "Please spare me--"  
  
"Don't be stupid," Vejita said, advancing on her, now openly wielding the dagger that the handmaiden had seen in his hands. "I cannot allow you to live after what you have seen. I am not willing to risk my life, and your queen's, over a silly little bitch like you. Now, if you would just cooperate, I can make this real easy for both of us."  
  
Nataliah could not believe her ill fate. "I will not lay still and let you kill me!"  
  
Vejita shrugged. "I can work with that."  
  
And before Nataliah could even manage to cry out, he was upon her. The last thing that the handmaiden saw was Bulma's coveted bottle of perfume resting on the counter, an ironic symbol of the very means of the queen's happiness and of her maid's end.  
  
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Bulma had been sitting at the old piano for hours before it was time for Vejita to meet her. For whatever reason, her chambers had felt extremely suffocating that morning. She had felt as if she couldn't remain there for another second, as though the blood in her dream would materialize there and drown her. She knew that that was silly, but her instincts had gotten the better of her, and she had practically thrown some clothes on and ran from the room. She had left Nataliah an awful mess, but she temporarily shoved the guilt into the back of her mind for the moment.  
  
Her thin fingers caressed the keys absently. She wasn't even playing a song, just bits and pieces of whatever popped into her head. She had much to think about, and this seemed as good a place as any to do it. And she was completely alone-- the guards that were usually stationed at the entrance were gone. The queen hadn't given it a second thought, assuming that Vejita had arranged for them to be away. They were taking a huge chance by meeting in such an accessible place this time.  
  
But Bulma was ready to take that chance this time around. She had some serious things to say to Vejita. She wasn't sure if her dream would effect his thinking about the war at all, but she was willing to try. It wasn't just the dream that she wanted to talk about, though. She wanted to talk about her. If a war were to be started after the meeting tonight, they needed to talk about a plan.   
  
She knew that she did not want to go back to Earth with Yamcha, because his punishment would be both swift and torturous, but it would be next to impossible for her to sneak both herself and Nataliah to a safe place where they could stay until the human ambassadors had left. And then there was the matter of the law. Undoubtedly, their affair would be revealed, and they would have to be punished. It was Queen Magdalene's duty to deliver justice, and Yamcha would claim something similar, therefore leaving her fate in his hands.   
  
Bulma shuddered at the thought of her husband finding out. He got jealous if a man even looked her way, let alone dared to do all that Vejita had done. And of all people to have an affair with-- Prince Vejita, Yamcha's worst enemy and rival! But even as she thought this over with growing apprehension, she knew that if she were to go back in time, she wouldn't have done a thing differently. This was what she wanted-- to be free, and to be loved for more than her pretty face.  
  
Her fingers gripped the keys as she thought, and an ugly, unmusical sound emitted from the old piano. Bulma started and stared down at her hands as if just noticing that they were there. Then she jerked them away and clutched them to her chest, willing them not to betray her tense feelings again.   
  
If she were able to stay on Vejitasei... Bulma could hardly contain her excitement at the thought. She dared to imagine what life would be like for her, without Yamcha, without Lady Briefs, and without Earth. She would be able to dress as she wished, casually or elegant, without having to go with the pretenses of the nobles that dictated her life. She could play her precious music to her heart's desire, and would brighten up this wonderful room with more instruments and teach herself to play them all in her spare time. She would take daily walks down by the ocean and swim whenever she pleased. She might even let Vejita convince her to go skinny dipping, she mused with a small smile. And she would try the activity that Vejita had described to her-- diving beneath the waves to see what secrets the ocean held. She would wear her hair down every day and never touch a corset again. And... Bulma's dreamy smile faded at this new thought, an idea that hadn't occured to her yet. If she were to stay here, Vejita would make her queen, and would let her do as she wished without having to get his approval. That would give her the authority to do as she pleased, which meant that she could find her best friend.  
  
Wouldn't Maylene be pleased to discover that her old chum had found happiness at last? And the girl would undoubtedly love the danger and excitement of living with the Saiyans. Bulma would bring her back to Vejitasei with her, and the girl could paint her face, dance with any anonymous man, and smoke to her heart's desire. The idea was so wonderful, so new, that Bulma could not help but allow herself a small bit of hope.  
  
It never occured to her to find Lord Byron and contact him, however. She clenched her fists at the thought of her first lover. He had shown her so much, and she owed him everything for that. She decided that she would inquire about his whereabouts, and if he was still under a punishment, she would release him and give him the opprotunity to live a new life. But, since she would be with Vejita, she would not pursue him any further. She thought of him as nothing more than pleasant memory amongst her many sad ones now, and wanted him to remain that way.  
  
Bulma was jarred from her fantasies by the sound of the doors opening and closing. She blinked, trying to refocus her attention to the real world, and turned to face Vejita, who nodded in acknowledgement of her.   
  
"Why don't you play something?" he asked. Bulma got the feeling that he was more asking her to play something rather than inquiring as to why she wasn't.  
  
She turned away from him and back to the piano, arranging her fingers on the correct keys. "What is it that you would like to hear?"  
  
Vejita walked up behind her, studying the back of her head intently. He was testing her, Bulma could sense it. "What do you think? I want to hear that song that you were humming on the night of your welcoming celebration, that one you were muttering on the beach."  
  
Bulma blinked, surprised that he remembered. "All right... I'm sorry if I can't play it well-- you see, I didn't exactly learn it from a book--"  
  
"I don't care," Vejita cut her off, still standing behind her like a drill sergeant. "I want to hear it."  
  
The queen nodded. For some reason, she didn't feel very comfortable playing that song for the Saiyan Prince. It was apparently a Saiyan song, but she didn't want to run the risk of messing it up and looking foolish. Nevertheless, she knew that she didn't have much of a choice. So, the woman took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and began to play the song. The music spilled out from her fingers, taking on a life of its own. Bulma barely even knew what she was playing-- the emotion of the rhapsody seemed to become intensified with Vejita here.  
  
Vejita crossed his arms as Bulma played, listening to her version of his own birth song. She had it down pretty good, considering that she had no idea what it was. Before he could catch himself, Vejita reached around her and adjusted her fingers a little. "It will sound more natural that way, woman."  
  
Bulma played according to his adjustments and nodded. "It does sound better," she agreed. Then, she realized what he had just done. Her fingers faltered a bit, and the song ended. She turned to him with narrowed eyes. "But-- how did you know how to fix it? I was under the impression that--"  
  
"That I wasn't musically trained?" Vejita finished for her with a smirk. "You would be right. I'm not. Quite frankly, I don't care for most the shit that I hear. But every Saiyan knows their own birth song. I would have been able to fix it even when I was too young to talk."  
  
"Birth song?"  
  
"Every Saiyan is given a song when they are born. It is unique to them, and is supposed to reflect their personalities. Children sing it to pass the time, or to chase away nightmares. Supposedly, only your mate knows your song, and that is how one can identify their true partner."  
  
"A lovely tradition," Bulma commented, not quite comprehending what he was insinuating yet. "Your song must have been recorded at some time, because I would not have been able to think it up all on my own, in a dream."  
  
Vejita sat down next to her on the wooden bench. "I think not."  
  
"What are you trying to tell me, Vejita?" Bulma asked softly, studying his face for any clues.  
  
The Saiyan leaned towards her until their noses where almost touching, then he smirked and took her face in his hands. "When this war comes, you will stay here with me."  
  
Bulma's heart beat furiously in her chest. She dared a hopeful look into Veijta's eyes, and found that he was able to meet her gaze evenly and honestly. It was as sincere an exchange as she had ever had. The queen blinked some loose hair from her eyes, and then leaned into him, so that their foreheads were touching. "Do you really want that, Vejita? Would you risk your reputation, and your life?"  
  
"Yes," he promised her. "Fuck what everyone else thinks. If Yamcha comes for you, he'll have to go through me. I will kill him gladly."  
  
Bulma pulled away from his partial-embrace, her face tight with worry. "I am afraid that things will not play out that way, Vejita."  
  
"You said that you had a premonition," Vejita said. "Tell me what you saw."  
  
"I'm not sure if it means anything," Bulma said. "It was a dream-- it might have been nonsense."  
  
"I am not willing to take that chance. Besides, I could use all of the premonition I can get. The more I know about Yamcha's plans, the easier things will be."  
  
Bulma proceeded to tell him the contents of her dream, from the burning palace and city, blurry-faced soldiers, the appearance of Magdalene and Maylene, taunts from her mother and Yamcha, and then his appearance. When she told him that he had been carrying Nataliah's severed head, his expression became guarded, but when she looked again, it was gone. She continued to tell him of her drowning in the blood of either he or Yamcha, or possibly both of them together. When she reached this point, she could not control herself any more. She began to tremble in fear, because she was unconsciously convinced that if something weren't done, that would be her fate.  
  
Vejita recognized her genuine fear and contemplated her words. Parts of her dream seemed a bit far-fetched, but the other half was so frighteningly accurate that he knew her vision would be impossible to ignore. She had foreseen him murdering Nataliah, but she seemed to carry no suspicions now. He planned to keep it that way, so he did not mention that part of the dream. "Everything sounds quite possible, but why would you drown in blood? And why the hell would Yamcha have you in shackles tight enough to choke you? I thought that he wanted to keep you alive, so that he could enjoy a fuck now and then at your expense."  
  
"I do not know," Bulma replied. "Perhaps it was a metaphor."  
  
  
  
"What does the bastard have on you that would keep you tied to him?"  
  
Bulma shrugged. "I do not know. All I know is, this war must not be allowed to happen."  
  
"There is no other way."  
  
"There has to be," Bulma insisted. "We have to make a way. I will not be responsible for the deaths of countless innocent people, nor the deaths of you, or Kakkarott, or Nataliah, or anybody! You promised me that you would not initiate war, Vejita, or do you not remember?"  
  
Vejita held up his hands in defense. "I will not try to start anything, woman. I am just pointing out that there is no other way that I know of."  
  
Bulma turned her face away from him to stare out the picture windows that overlooked the capital. Deep inside, she knew that there would be a war. It was inevitable. But her mind refused to accept that. She didn't want any more pain. She didn't want to suffer. And most of all, she didn't want to be the cause of the end of an empire. She would not be able to bear the weight of those sins on her shoulders for very long without cracking under the pressure. The woman's eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks as she tried to regain her composure. When she opened them, she saw that Vejita had grown impatient and had walked over to the windows. He stood with his arms crossed, glaring out over the city. Bulma did not know how to start up the conversation again, so she started to play the piano again. When he heard the soft starting notes of his song, he turned back to her.  
  
"Its stupid to stand here and talk about this when we haven't even been to the meeting yet," he commented. "We shall see where we are when we commence tonight."  
  
When Bulma did not immediately respond, just sat and continued the difficult song, staring straight ahead, Vejita began to leave. When he was almost at the door, however, the queen finally spoke up.  
  
"I trust your judgement," she said flatly. "If it comes to war, I will stand by you."  
  
Vejita stopped and regarded her seriously. "You will not regret your decision."  
  
"I know."  
  
The Saiyan Prince was gone by the time Bulma came to the most turbulent part of the song, and was therefore spared the sight of her sparkling tears falling onto the keys as she played.  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
******   
  
FF.NET MEMBERS:: Special thanks to Kaiya for the suggestion of my new pen name! I owe you one... ^_^ Wow, this is one of the longest chapters yet! Hopefully it will make up for this weekend, as I will be at another horse show and (obviously) unable to update until Monday. Just know this-- things are gonna start happening really fast from now on, and... (dun dun dun) a war may be started soon! Thats all the spoilers I'm gonna give you! BTW, thanks again for all of your 300+ reviews. I can't believe it, even after all this time! Love ya bunches!  
  
TO LIL' RACH:: My pen name on FF.net is Lady Rhapsody, and my pen name on MM.org is Cerulean Rhapsody...  
  
MEDIAMINER.ORG MEMBERS:: Sorry about the later updates-- for some reason, I could not access the site. Grrr... *Suppressing the urge to throw her keyboard through a window* Hopefully things will be running more smoothly by the time I want to update again!  
  
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	20. Part Four: 20

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________________________~*Part Four*~: War  
  
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Emotions ran high during the hours before the meeting. Word had been going through the palace that King Yamcha had been loitering around the city with an odd array of Saiyan cohorts, proclaiming war beginning at the meeting that night, and it was no secret that Prince Vejita was always battle-ready. People were saying that he had hired human targets from Yamcha's personal guard, and the men were never seen again. Legitimate proof, however, could not be found for any of these allegations.  
  
It was only when Bulma and Yamcha returned to their chambers a mere two hours before the meeting when the real drama started. Queen Bulma's scream could be heard down several hallways, and guards and nobles alike rushed to the ambassadorial chambers to have a look at the source of the woman's terror.  
  
By the time Queen Magdalene and Prince Vejita arrived, all but the human monarchs and the palace guards had been cleared from the room. Kakkarott, who had accompanied Vejita, rushed to Bulma's side. Thankfully, Yamcha was much too intoxicated and angry to stop him from embracing the woman and comforting her through her tears. Vejita forced himself to stay calm while his idot 'friend' touched the girl.  
  
"What in the world is going on here?" Magdalene demanded. "What is the reason for all the commotion?"  
  
"You wanna see?" Yamcha slurred with a peal of drunken laughter. "Go into the bathroom."  
  
"Oh Kami," Bulma was moaning. "My maid... Nataliah! Oh Kami, she's..."  
  
"What?" Vejita prodded indifferently. Inwardly, he seethed. He had not intended for Bulma to see the results of his crime.  
  
"Murdered!" Bulma cried, rocking within Kakkarott's arms. "There's so much... blood."  
  
"Damn," Magdalene swore. "When I find out who did this, I'll have them for breakfast!"  
  
  
  
"Cool it, Magdalene," Vejita said. "How do you know that the girl didn't just commit suicide?"  
  
Bulma shook her head. "No-- you haven't seen her."  
  
"That, my dear, can be easily remedied." Magdalene moved towards the bathroom and practically pushed past the guards. "Let me through!" Silence emitted from the room as the queen surveyed the scene. Then, she called out, "Vejita! Come here, quickly."  
  
The prince shot one last glimpse at Bulma, who looked worse by the moment, then stormed over to the bathroom, where he was treated to a view of his handiwork. If Bulma hadn't have been so affected, he thought, he actually would have been proud of himself.  
  
A thin trail of crimson led over to the bathtub, where Nataliah swam in a bath of her own blood. The unfortunate handmaiden sported a plain silver knife in her chest, and multiple fatal gashes that one could see over the tub of blood. The maid's face was twisted into a horrendous expression of dread, and her brown eyes still started ahead, at an attacker that had long since gotten away. All in all, it was a grisly sight.  
  
"What do you make of it?" Magdalene asked her son, moving forward to examine the scene. If she hadn't seen so many like it in her time as a royal, she would have been vomiting. Her dark emerald eyes glinted with emotion. "Murder, wouldn't you say?"  
  
Vejita nodded. "Yes. Maybe as a warning to the humans or to speed up a war with them."  
  
"What an awful thing for Bulma to see, especially when she's already under pressure," the queen said. "I shall have to lend her one of my handmaidens for the time being, and they must be moved to new chambers. Unfortunately, we do not have the time to investigate at this moment. We can, however, place guards at their doors for extra protection and arrange to have the situation mulled over later."  
  
"Yes. Do you think that the meeting should still commence?"  
  
Magdalene nodded reluctantly. "We must have it-- progress is too slow to miss out. Bulma will have to be excused, of course. She's in no condition to face that particular mess."  
  
"Would it be wise to leave her alone?" Inside, Vejita was elated-- now the woman could not be sure of exactly who had initiated the war, and therefore would still remain faithful in him.   
  
"No, and that is why I am appointing Kakkarott to stay with her." At her son's incredulous look, she glared. It seemed that her suspicions may have been correct, or else why would Vejita care who she left to keep Bulma company? That particular issue, however, would have to be dealt with later. "They are friends, Vejita, and besides, Bulma would hardly be comforted wth Radditz or, Kami forbid, Turles by her side."  
  
Vejita did not like the way his mother was scrutinizing him. It was almost as if she knew about he and Bulma... but therewas no way, he reminded himslef. She had seen no signs of their affection-- none! "Fine. I'll have the guards clean this shit up." The prince then exited the bathroom and made arrangemets with the guards, while Magdalene talked to Bulma, Yamcha, and Saint Kakkarott across the room.  
  
"I cannot miss the meeting!" Bulma was saying as defiantly as Magdalene had ever heard her. "I am perfectly fine--"  
  
Magdalene glanced at Yamcha, who was talking to a guard across the room after growing bored of Magdalene's lecture, then back at Bulma. "Dear, for once, listen to your body nad rest. I know what its like to be in your place-- the stress will kill you if you aren't careful."  
  
Kakkarott nodded. "She's right. We can rally for peace without you."  
  
"Besides, another death would not do good for our reputation," Vejita interjected as he approached them.  
  
"Kakkarott, make sure that she is kept relaxed," Magdalene instructed. "We have to leave for the meeting now." Then, to Bulma, "Perk up, dear. You are safe."  
  
"Thank you," Bulma said as the queen left, followed by the guards and Yamcha. Then, seeing that she, Vejita, and Kakkarott were alone, she spoke her mind. "This is not good at all. Yamcha will use this as an excuse for war, and Kami... poor Nataliah! She didn't do anything!"  
  
Kakkarott and Vejita exchanged glances, and the prince knew that Kakkarott had him figured out. But they would not spring the awful truth on Bulma now.  
  
"Be careful, Vejita-sama," Kakkarott said. "Remember that war is a last resort only."  
  
Bulma met his black eyes. "You made me a promise," she reminded him. "I am relying on you now."  
  
Vejita nodded, but did not meet her eyes in return. He couldn't. For the first time in his life, he felt genuinely guilty about lying to somebody. It was not a feeling that he liked. "I remember." And before exited, he turned back to Kakkarott. "Keep in mind who you are embracing, third-class." Then he was gone.  
  
Kakkarott tried his best to smile. "Let's go to your new chambers, shall we?"  
  
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"Why did you do it?"  
  
Vejita looked up from the pattern on his mother's bedspread (they had returned to her chambers so that the queen could 'freshen up') and frowned. "Around here, you're going to have to be a bit more specific."  
  
Magdalene stopped fluffing her hair or whatever it was that she was doing and turned to her son gravely. On the surface, she looked calm, but inside, Vejita knew that she was raging. "Why the bloody hell did you kill Nataliah, Vejita?! Why did you endanger us all by dallying with Bulma? Why did you lie to us without a second thought? And why, Vejita, do you want this war so damned badly?"  
  
The man knew that confrontation had been coming, but even he didn't predict to what extent. How had his mother gotten to know these things? All that he could be sure of was the fact that there was nothing to be gained by lying anymore. "Because the bitch saw us together and could not be trusted! Because war is the only way and you fucking know it!"  
  
  
  
"And what of Bulma?" Magdalene raised an eyebrow and approached her son slowly, arms crossed. "You never answered that question for me, Vejita."  
  
"I don't know the fuck why!" the prince shouted, jumping up to glare at his mother. "Any man in his right mind would have done it."  
  
"When?" Magdalene pressed. "How long have you been keeping this from everyone?"  
  
Vejita looked her straight in the eyes. "Since the welcoming celebration. And Kakkarott knew."  
  
Magdalene looked as if she wanted to vomit for a moment, then she turned away. It appeared, judging by her tense shoulders and heavy breathing, that she was trying to contain her Saiyan temper. She was unsuccessful. Suddenly, she lunged for her vanity and seized a hairbrush, which she slammed into her mirror violently. The mirror shattered and sent sharp shards falling down onto her, but she didn't seem to notice.  
  
"Why the hell would you do such an idiotic thing?!" she demanded. "Bulma is a married woman-- Yamcha's woman, to be exact. You will both have to be punished. Yamcha would torture her if he knew, maybe even kill her! If you love her so damned much, then why would you do it?" When the queen turned around to face Vejita, her face was streaked with tears of frustration and anger.  
  
Vejita considered lying, but knew that he would never be able to live with the guilt of deceiving his mother in her condition. "Her damned music drew me in. She played my birth song, Magdalene. She even hums it when she gets bored! And if that isn't a good reason, then I don't know what the hell is."  
  
"This could be our undoing," Magdalene said softly. "I can not blame you, though. When I see her, I think of what she could be, if only she had encountered us earlier. But perhaps you do not understand, Vejita. She is trapped. Yamcha will never leave her alone now. She will never know peace again-- he will beat her, ravage her, until you and Vejitasei are forgotten. How could you shield her from that?"  
  
"When this war comes, she will stay here with me," Vejita told her stubbornly. "Yamcha will never see her again."  
  
"I see." Magdalene narrowed her eyes. "So this war will be about her. Would you risk millions of lives for Bulma? Would you risk your own life?"  
  
Vejita knew that the answer to both of those questions was yes, but did not think it wise to share that fact with Magdalene. If she thought him overly reckless, she would be harder to deal with it came down to declaring war. "It will not come to that, and if it does, I will do what's in the best interest of the planet."  
  
"For Bulma's sake, as well as yours, I hope that you are being truthful." Green eyes bore into black ones, and Magdalene was forced to look away first.  
  
In a way, she was happy for Bulma and Vejita. Their relationship meant freedom and happiness for Bulma's tortured soul, and perhaps finally Vejita would settle down and allow himself to be a normal young man without the weight of the universe on his shoulders. And the pair made sense-- the most beautiful woman known and the most powerful man in the universe. Together, there was no telling what they could accomplish. But at the same time... there was no way that this would go over well. In some shape or form, the two would have to be punished.  
  
"I never thought that I would live to see the day when you deem a woman worthy of your attentions."  
  
Vejita raised an eyebrow and looked a bit too arrogant for comfort. "She cannot be equaled. I like that."  
  
"Most men do," Magdalene retorted. She knew better than to believe her son's brusque cover. He loved her for more than charming exterior. "But if you think that Yamcha will give her up without a full-scale war, then you are a bigger fool than even your father was." Harsh words, she knew, but someone had to say it.  
  
"If he threatens me-- or her -- I'll slaughter him gladly."  
  
"Vejita, I must warn you that--"  
  
A knock on the door cut her off mid-sentence. The queen hurried to answer it and greeted the guard that stood there coolly. Under the woman's menacing gaze, the interrupter nearly trembled.  
  
"Your Majesties, the meeting is starting now," the guard standing at the door informed them. "The council and King Yamcha are ready for you now."  
  
Magdalene glanced at Vejita, who had come forward by her side, and glared with a malice that only an angry mother could manage.  
  
"We'll finish this conversation later."  
  
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Meanwhile, Bulma and Kakkarott sat together out on the small balcony of the new set of chambers while servants transferred the humans' belongings over from the other rooms. Sensing that they would need privacy, Kakkarott had shut the doors back into the room, so that no curious servants could eavesdrop on their conversation.  
  
Bulma was grateful for a friend's presence. If it were not for Kakkarott's kind companionship she would have fallen apart. Not that she was relaxed or anything-- just distracted temporarily. For somewhere in the palace, a war could be beginning.  
  
"Are you sorry that you're missing the meeting?" she asked Kakkarott, who had been quietly looking at the pleasant view of the sea while the human queen battled her inner demons.  
  
Kakkarott shrugged. "Not really. There isn't much that I could do anyway, because Vejita would overrule me. I would much rather be here talking to a friend who wouldn't attack me for speaking up!"  
  
Bulma could not find it in herself to laugh at this truth about Vejita. "I appreciate your being here, Kakkarott, even if you are keeping the truth from me."  
  
This was a new development. "What?"  
  
"You and Vejita know what happened to Nataliah. I could see it in Vejita's demeanor, and I can see it in your eyes. Tell me the truth."  
  
Kakkarott recognized the toughness in her clear blue eyes, and sighed. She was much too smart to be shielded from the truth. "Bulma, I don't think--"  
  
"Tell me!" she ordered him.  
  
"Vejita killed her," Kakkarott admitted, looking away from the queen in guilt. "She saw you two together, and would have told somebody. That's how nervous about it she was. You gotta remember-- he did it to protect you. He didn't intend for you to be the one to find her, though..." He trailed off lamely, not knowing how she would react. Then he dared to look up at her.  
  
Much to his dismay, she was not openly traumatized, though a single tear slid over one high cheekbone. "Nataliah suffered because of my selfishness and dangerous actions. And now a war will be started, mostly because of me..." The woman took a deep breath, fighting for composure. "When Yamcha finds out about all of this, I'll be doomed."  
  
"Vejita is a powerful man," Kakkarott assured her. "He will do everything in his power to keep you here on Vejitasei with him."  
  
"He has more important things to worry about right now."  
  
Kakkarott shook his head. "Nothing is more important to a Saiyan than his mate." The man instantly regretted his hasty words-- it was obvious to everyone with two eyes that the two belonged together, but did they realize that yet?  
  
Bulma's eyes were wide. "What did you call me? But, I am human. How could--"  
  
"It doesn't matter," Kakkarott said. "I have never seen him like this before. You are his only equal, or at least thats what he believes. It sure explains why he's been so crazy lately."  
  
"Why do things have to be so complicated? All I want is to be happy, and to be safe."  
  
Kakkarott nodded. "I know. But don't worry-- things have a funny habit of turning for the better around here. Look at Magdalene-- she's living proof."  
  
"Stop comparing her to me," Bulma said with a frown. "She is stronger than I could ever hope to be."  
  
Her companion said nothing. Something told him that Bulma's claim was entirely mistaken. She was much stronger than people had been giving her credit for, and the time was coming for her to prove it.  
  
"What do you think is going on right now?" Bulma asked softly after a few moments of silence. "Do you think that they are pushing for a war yet?"  
  
Kakkarott closed his eyes and felt for the Saiyan council's ki signatures. What he discovered alarmed him more greatly than anything else could have. His father's ki was skyrocketing, a sure sign that all was not well. Radditz, Nappa, and Turles' seemed to be normal, but fluctuated periodically, probably because they were falling in and out of arguement. Vejita's was on the verge of breaking over to Super Saiyan, but knowing his temper, that could mean anything. It was Magdalene's ki that gave him his answer. When the Saiyan opened his eyes again, his face was pale.  
  
"Maybe," he replied. "Magdalene is ready to explode, as well as Vejita. That could mean anything, but..."  
  
Bulma nodded understandingly. "But we both know how close its getting." The queen took a deep breath and stood from her chair. She then moved over to the balcony, where she rested her chin on her folded hands and fought for control of her emotions. She felt as if she would either burst into tears or scream with the tension of it all. "He promised me..." she whispered.  
  
Kakkarott's sensitive hearing picked up on her quiet words, and he went to stand beside her, his kind face concerned. "I know," he said sympathetically. "But sometimes, war cannot be avoided, and Vejita knows what he's doing. He's been planning wars since he could talk, you know? And besides..." The man rested a comforting hand on Bulma's bare shoulder. "I'm sure that he wouldn't lie to you intentionally."  
  
"He lied about Nataliah," Bulma pointed out.   
  
"Not exactly," Kakkarott said. "He never got a chance to talk to you about it, did he?"  
  
The woman shook her head, but Kakkarott could see that she was doubtful. "A healthy relationship cannot be built on a bed of half-truths."  
  
"Uh, I don't think that it can be built on an illegal affair, either."  
  
Bulma cracked a small, ironic smile at this. "I suppose that things couldn't get any worse then, could they?"  
  
Kakkarott looked away. He wouldn't bet on it.  
  
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Magdalene and Vejita arrived at the meeting rooms just in time to witness Radditz and Yamcha jump out of their seats simultaneously, shouting accusations at each other at the top of their lungs. The other Saiyans, save Bardock, quickly moved to separate the two before they started the war right then and there.  
  
"What the hell is going on?" Vejita demanded, raising his power level as a warning. For Kami's sake, they hadn't even taken their seats yet! "Can't you fools be trusted alone for more than a few seconds?"  
  
"Forgive me, Your Highness, for wanting to bring justice to one of the killers of my wife's maid!" Yamcha huffed, shrugging off the restraining hands of Nappa and Turles. "I know that it was fucking orchestrated, and that I was next!"  
  
Nobody could think of a response to such an absurd comment, so Yamcha ranted mindlessly on, his nerves strengthed by alcohol and adrenaline, a deadly combination.  
  
"You barbarians would have finished me off, too, then taken Bulma!" Yamcha then spit boldly at Vejita and Magdalene's feet, reeking of strong wine. "Its a shame that Kami has allowed such perversions of nature to remain in power for so damne dlong. As far as I'm concerned, you all can rot in hell!"  
  
Vejita coudl hold back no longer. "We're two steps ahead of you, asshole, because this son of a bitch has taken your woman already!"  
  
  
  
A shocked, heavy silence fell over the room as both the Saiyans and humans absorbed Vejita's fearless admission. Fresh tears wet Magdalene's face, and the queen covered her face with her hands. Bardock's intelligent brown eyes smoldered at Vejita, and Radditz, Nappa, and Turles wore identical expressions of disbelief. Yamcha's face went from pale, to pink, to red, then to an enraged shade of purple, and his hands trembled.  
  
  
  
"You are a liar!" he accused, pointing a shaky finger at the Saiyan Prince. "She would have told me."  
  
"Even I could not make up such a ridiculous lie," Vejita replied, his smug expression never faltering.  
  
"You ravaged her then, you monster!"  
  
Vejita chuckled and approached the other man, amused at his entirely predictable reaction. Yamcha's body trembled as he was forced to back away from the stronger man. "I've heard enough English in my life to accurately distinguish between 'harder' and 'help me'." The Saiyan then smirked dangerously. "Tell me-- how does it feel to sleep ignorantly in the very bed where your adversary fucked your wife just moments ago?"  
  
Yamcha let out a scream of rage, and attempted to lunge at Vejita, but was stopped by Bardock, who pulled him a safe distance away from Vejita, who looked more than a little disappointed to miss an opprotunity to fight.  
  
"We can resolve this peacefully!" he exclaimed over Yamcha's angry shouts. "Calm yourself, please!"  
  
"Who are you kidding, Bardock?" Vejita said with a murderous glint in his black eyes. "War is the only way to resolve such matters. I'm sure that King Yamcha here will agree with me, hmm?"  
  
"Let go of me, you old fool!" Yamcha commanded, struggling out of Bardock's grasp.  
  
"What do you say?" Vejita asked as Yamcha brushed himself off.  
  
"Fuck diplomacy!" Yamcha hissed, glaring at the Saiyans around him. "If its a war that you want, I'll be glad to comply. And if you want her beneath you again, Saiyan, you can pry her body from my cold dead fingers."  
  
"We must rethink--" Magdalene started to protest.  
  
"Shut up!" Vejita and Yamcha yelled simultaneously.  
  
The Saiyan Queen did not speak, but her expression said more than her voice ever could. She looked utterly devastated. Helpless.  
  
  
  
"No terms, no papers," Vejita continued. "Who needs a document to explain what happened today? I think that we understand each other perfectly."  
  
Yamcha frowned. He normally knew better than to agree to such a thing, but jealousy poisoned his mind and clouded his reasoning. "Done. Let me off the planet, and then we shall next see each other from across a battlefield."  
  
"You have one hour," Vejita conceded. "Get your ass out of my sight before I change my mind and decide to kill you now instead."  
  
After one last black look, Yamcha was gone, leaving the Saiyans alone to confront their prince.  
  
"What the fuck were you thinking?!" Bardock exclaimed. "You had an affair with Bulma?!"  
  
"I know what he was thinking," Radditz muttered to his cohorts, who mustered laughter.  
  
Magdalene spoke up. "It does not matter now. If Yamcha finds her first..." She did not have to finish her sentence before Vejita was gone. Then, to the remaining council and guards, "Go now-- there is no time to waste! Prepare for war."  
  
Numbly, the men hurried away, falling into the battle routine that they had gone through many times. Magdalene knew that they knew what to do. Exhausted, the woman saknk down into a chair and sighed.  
  
"I knew it."  
  
Magdalene did not look up at Bardock, just shook her head. "So did I, I'm afraid."  
  
"Now we are all paying the price for Vejita's recklessness! How could he--"  
  
"Bardock," Magdalene said sternly. "Yamcha came for war no matter what happened here. You knew that."  
  
Bardock glared. "You are saying that because he is your son, and she is like you once upon a time."  
  
"No." Magdalene looked up at her old friend with a deadly certainty in her emerald eyes. "I say that because he knows what he's doing, and because she is the future queen of this planet."  
  
Bardock's gaze shifted over to the doors through which Vejita had exited. "Then let us hope that he finds her," he whispered. "Its all up to them now."  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
******   
  
FF.NET MEMBERS:: Sorry 'bout the delay, I was at yet another horse show. But don't worry, my next one isn't until September, and this story will most likely be finished by then. ^_~ Once again, thanks for your wonderful response! Ja ne for now...  
  
MEDIAMINER.ORG MEMBERS:: Same apology about the (slightly longer) delay. For some reason, I've been having trouble getting onto the site. I wonder why that is....??  
  
Please remember to REVIEW!  
  
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	21. Part Four: 21

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
  
  
...................................................................................Rhapsody~*  
  
________________________~*Part Four*~: War  
  
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Bulma and Kakkarott were conversing amiably, if somewhat tensely, about Kakkarott's third-class upbringing when the doors of the chambers burst open. Expecting Prince Vejita, the two leaped up and hurriedly entered the room. They were met with a terrifying sight.  
  
Yamcha and four of his armed human guards stood there, apparently preparing to search for them. Bulma gasped before catching herself and was grateful for Kakkarott's protective presence. As it would turn out, however, he would not be much of a help.   
  
When the human king's eyes settled on Bulma, his angry expression turned into a mask of sheer, uncontrollable rage. Bulma felt a cold chill down her spine and instinctively knew that she and Vejita's peace had been shattered forever.  
  
"You bitch!" he shouted, advancing on them threateningly. "Miserable, rutting whore! How could you bed that monkey?!"  
  
Bulma's face went from mortified, to disbelief, and then finally to anger at her husband's words. The woman bravely sidestepped Kakkarott, who had been trying to shield her, and for once was able to look Yamcha in the eyes. "Easily," she responded in a clear, even voice. "Does it make you jealous that a mere Saiyan brought me more pleasure than you ever could?"  
  
Yamcha boldly slapped her full across the face, a blow that nearly sent her down on her knees. Behind her, Kakkarott took a step forward. "Don't move," the human king warned. "My guards are armed, and even your freakish strength cannot win against them."  
  
Kakkarott glowered, helpless and not enjoying it. "Only the lowest of men are dishonorable enough to hit their wives."  
  
"Oh?" Yamcha's gaze never moved from Kakkarott as he punched Bulma square in the jaw, this time knocking her down with a broken cry. "Then what does that make your prince? Seducing a married woman is hardly a respectable thing for a man to do."  
  
"No... seducing," Bulma muttered from the floor at her husband's feet. She could not let him spin his lies any more...  
  
"Shut up!" Yamcha shouted almost crazily. "You are my wife, and you will fucking love and respect me!"  
  
Bulma only succeeded in shaking her head before Yamcha seized her by the hair and proceeded to drag her towards the door, kicking and screaming. When they reached it, he lifted her by her beautiful long locks and pinned her to the wall forcefully, knocking the breath from her.   
  
The man studied her bruised but otherwise flawless face and scowled, imagining another man taking that small chin in his hands, exploring her slender body and milky white skin while she moaned softly from beneath him, her sweet musical breath warming his face...  
  
"No!" he shouted. She had never responded so willingly to his touch, and he was her husband, for Kami's sake! "You are mine!"  
  
Bulma's eyelids fluttered as she fought consciousness, but she managed to utter in a choked whisper. "I... would rather be... dead."  
  
Yamcha gaped at her in disbelief. How had he missed this new development? No matter, he decided, he would deal with it as it came to him. Harshly. "That's alright, my darling. I don't require complete compliance. In fact, your pain would only add to this joyous occasion-- war!"  
  
Kakkarott, wary of the guards, took a step closer. "War? What in the--"  
  
"It was Prince Vejita's suggestion, actually," Yamcha informed him smugly. "He agreed on no terms, no documents, no rules. That was after he came forward with the news of seducing my wife..."  
  
Bulma did not hear the rest of what Yamcha was saying. She didn't care. She had heard all that she had needed to. Vejita had killed Nataliah, revealed the affair, and broken his promise. The injured queen choked on desperate sobs, and was ashamed of the tell-tale tears that ran down her cheeks and tingled her fresh bruises. If Vejita had proclaimed all of that, then surely he would be on his way... right? Bulma looked over at Kakkarott and was able to make out his startled and betrayed expression through her tears. Her worst nightmares seemed to all be coming to life, and she was utterly helpless to stop them.  
  
Yamcha sneered at her tears. "You cry for nothing," he hissed, giving her a painful shake, then letting her tumble to the floor in a heap, where she began to sob harder. "It is too late. We are leaving this Kami forsaken place now, and the next time you shall see your precious prince will be when I have his severed head on my sword! Mourn about that."  
  
Bulma felt as if she were traveling in a rapid downward spiral, bound for unspeakable pain. She was almost dizzy with despair, but she hadn't even come to the worst of it. Suddenly, he was upon her, beating her into submission as he attempted to drag her by her fragile, beautiful wrap to the door, where his guards waited. He laughed at her screams, and when her garment ripped, revealing the side of one creamy breast, along with old injuries that had not yet healed beneath her new ones, he could hardly contain his half-drunken laughter.  
  
"You will never get off of this planet alive!" Kakkarott exclaimed, on the verge of madness as he was forced to watch a beating that he could not stop. "Vejita will kill you before you can even reach the loading docks!"  
  
Yamcha snickered, still grasping Bulma by the wrap and hair. "That is where you are mistaken. Your war-loving prince gave me an hour to get off the planet before the war begins. An hour is all I need." Then he was leaving, grinning triumphantly as Bulma screamed. "See you later, dumbass." As he began to drag her away, a torn piece of her wrap fluttered to the ground, like a dying butterfly.  
  
The human guards, with their foreign weapons and taunting expressions, surrounded Yamcha, providing him with a clean escape. Kakkarott was only able to rush after them, shouting Bulma's name, before it was too late.   
  
Before they exited, he caught a last glimpse of the ethearal woman as Yamcha dragged her away to certain doom. Her face was twisted into an expression of agony and sadness, and was marred with ugly bruises by Yamcha's hand. Bow-shaped lips called out in pain and desperation for anyone who might help her. But the most disturbing of all were her eyes-- wide, frightened cerulean pools of unending sorrow reaching out to him, begging him for the help that he could not give.  
  
And then she was gone.  
  
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Vejita arrived at the room mere minutes after Yamcha and Bulma left, looking as stressed as Kakkarott had ever seen him. When he caught sight of the other man sitting on the bed, staring forlornly forward, his expression fell.  
  
"You're too late," Kakkarott said quietly, his brown eyes remorseful. "She's gone."  
  
"What do you mean, 'gone'?" the prince demanded. "That's what you were put here to prevent, you fool!"  
  
Kakkarott averted his eyes down to his feet. "I know that. Yamcha came in with guards who had guns. He had them aimed on me as he dragged Bulma away and he... he hit her several times."  
  
Vejita wanted to kill Kakkarott for his imcompetance, but knew that it really wasn't his fault. It was his. He had given the human bastard on hour window to get away, and an hour was more than long enough to retrieve Bulma first. The prince could have killed somebody. "Something can still be done," he said desperately. "We can stop them from leaving the planet, ambush their ship, and take the woman."  
  
"They're armed, remember?" Kakkarott shook his head at Vejita's faulty reasoning. They had guns, definitely, but not nearly enough to take down a ship. "This isn't about just you and Bulma anymore, Vejita-sama. This is about two planets now-- two populations of innocent people that you and Magdalene have to put first. Bulma's in trouble, but we have no choice, and neither does she."  
  
Vejita glowered, knowing that what Kakkarott was saying was right but not wanting to accept it. "I refuse to sit on my ass and let her be tortured by that son of a bitch!"  
  
"Think about what you're saying," Kakkarott advised seriously. "If Bulma were in your situation, she would protect her people and put her personal feelings aside."  
  
  
  
"Enough damned preaching!" Vejita clenched his fists, fighting his famous temper as well as his emotions towards Bulma. As much as he hated to admit it (and oh, did he loathe the thought), Kakkarott was right. He had fought in countless wars in his lifetime, and this one would require his full and complete attention. After all, recovering hostages like Bulma was part of the war-planning process, was it not? The prince forced himself to temporarily accept that cruel reality, then looked back up at Kakkarott, who watched him through uncharacteristically calculating eyes. "Fine. I will fight this war, and when I arrive on the humans' planet, I will get the woman back and then kill Yamcha with my bare hands!"  
  
Kakkarott was not sure how well the volatile man would be able to hold out without losing control completely, but was more than willing to assist him until that dreaded day. "Sounds like a plan. Do you have the council getting ready?"  
  
"What kind of imbecile do you take me for?"  
  
  
  
The other man held up his hands defensively. "Sorry. I'm just trying to make sure that everything is going to be okay."  
  
"Then go do that where it'll be appreciated," Vejita ordered roughly.  
  
Kakkarott stood to leave, then turned and put a hand on his prince's shoulder. The man was trying his best to hide his pain, but it was obvious to a life-long friend that Vejita was undergoing extreme agony. It could all be seen in the Saiyan's smoldering black eyes. "I know how hard it must be for you," he sympathized quietly. "When I was talking to Bulma, it was plain as day that she's going to miss you as much as you do her. Stay focused, Vejita-sama, for her sake."  
  
Vejita was silent as Kakkarott slowly left the room, leaving him alone with his turbulent emotions. The prince stood for a moment, trying to maintain his cool composure, then turned and started to leave. As he was going, however, something at his feet caught his attention. Curious in spite of himself, he bent to pick it up, and when he did, felt a fresh jolt of anger rock him.  
  
It was a ripped piece of a woman's wrap-- Bulma's wrap, he knew, from the sweet smell and azure color almost as blue as her eyes. Imagining Yamcha tearing her garment as he attacked her, Vejita scowled and crinkled the thin material in his hand.   
  
When he encountered that man again, there would be hell to pay.  
  
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Bulma was dragged out of the palace in a dazed, almost dreamlike state. She barely saw the beautiful tapestries and grand rooms of the palace go by as they passed, nor did she feel her husband's merciless hands on her wrap and in her hair. All that she knew was her own sorrow, so deep that she felt as if she were drowning in it.  
  
She would never forget the helpless, sympathetic look on Kakkarott's face as she was beaten and taken away like a used-up whore by her own husband. She knew that Vejita would not be able to stop Yamcha from leaving the planet with her, bound by his own bold words, and she knew that when he found Kakkarott alone, he would be furious. She hoped that he wouldn't take his anger out on poor Kakkarott and do something that he would later regret. All that she could hope for was that Vejita and Magdalene (that is, if she could even stomach the sight of Bulma anymore) would plan well and plan quickly so that the war would be over soon.  
  
War. She could still hardly believe that it was happening. Vejita had wanted it all along, too. He had broken his promise. Bulma shed tears over this, but in her heart she could not hate the prince for it. It had been inevitable, and they all knew that. She could see why he would want to speed it up-- the less time it took, the less preparations Yamcha would be able to make, therefore giving the war-knowledgable Saiyans an early advantage. A huge advantage. But many deaths on both sides were to be expected, Bulma supposed. Perhaps if Yamcha hadn't had time to rally enough soldiers and weapons, the humans could be crushed easier. Bulma could hardly believe her thoughts-- she was going against her own kind! But thinking back on her life, she knew that this was only way she was capable of thinking. It was the only way that she could think, after all that she had been through.  
  
"Its about time!" Yamcha suddenly exclaimed to the humans standing near the ship, shattering Bulma's trance and bringing her back to reality. "Load up as much as you can in thirty minutes, then prepare for our departure."  
  
The men bowed, then rushed to their ship, where piles of their belongings waited. Just the sight of their ship made Bulma's stomach turn with memories of her hellish home, and the undoubtedly harsh punishment that awaited her there. Yamcha, however, grinned broadly.  
  
"Doesn't it make you want to smile?" he teased her. Then his grip on her hair and wrap released, and Bulma thudded to the ground. All the feeling on her scalp was gone. "I would suggest that you follow me like a good girl. I would have to have to chain you up like an animal before we even get on the ship."  
  
'Before we even get on the ship.' Bulma was hardly surprised. If she was lucky, chains would be the worst of it. But she would be underestimating Yamcha by harboring such a foolish hope. Yamcha's blood ran thick with jealousy and cruelty-- a deadly combination.  
  
Faced with no other choice, Bulma shakily stood. The few Saiyans that were unfortunate enough to be on the docks were being held at gunpoint to prevent their interference. Their dark eyes followed Bulma curiously, no doubt wondering why she looked as if she had sparred and lost. Either that, or they already knew. Ashamed, she kept her gaze down on her feet as they passed. Yamcha possessively gripped her left hand.  
  
"Home sweet home-- well, almost," Yamcha said happily. "I am so glad that we're finally getting back to civilized society. Aren't you?"  
  
Bulma scowled, an expression that looked foreign on her face. "Civilized society does not exist on Earth."  
  
Yamcha took the opprotunity to coolly split open her lip, then wiped her blood from his fingers as if it were toxic. "Cute. I assume sarcasm is a trait learned from your Saiyan lover."  
  
Bulma did not speak, just used her free hand to cover her bleeding lower lip. If she had been born stronger, she would have returned her husband's blow gladly, but Fate was not that kind. Shamed further by her weak and helpless state, the queen quickly glanced over her shoulder to see if the Saiyans had witnessed Yamcha's blow.  
  
Not surprisingly, they had. One hooded man even went so far as to look her in the eyes. Bulma did not look away, because the face looked familiar from beneath that dark cloth. As if sensing her recognition, he took his hood down, and Bulma saw that it was none other than Turles, watching her sullenly, no doubt as Vejita's eyes.  
  
"What are you gaping at?" Yamcha demanded, turning to follow Bulma's gaze. Thankfully, Turles had put his hood back up, concealing himself once more. "Stupid girl-- your monkey prince is not coming for you. He himself allowed us the time to escape! Face it, you were a good fuck and nothing else."  
  
Bulma did not look over her shoulder again. "When he finds you," she began seriously. "I wish to be there so that I can watch him tear you from limb to limb."  
  
Yamcha stared at her, shocked, for a moment. Never had he heard Bulma utter such venomous words to him, and by no means did he like it. In a fit of rage, he shoved her to the ground and knelt down beside her, his fingers digging into her throat until she turned an unhealthy shade of red, gasping for air. "How dare you speak to me in such a manner! If it weren't for my generosity, you would still just be another courtier! Without my cooperation with your mother, you would never have been so lucky as to become my wife and queen! You owe me respect, if nothing else!"  
  
Bulma struggled to speak. "I never wanted to be your wife," she hissed. "I never wanted to be your queen, nor have I ever wanted to be in your court! I would rather die a thousand painful deaths!"  
  
Yamcha's face contored with deadly malice. "Be careful what you wish for!" Then he was lifting her up by one small wrist, dragging her to the ship.  
  
"No!" Bulma shouted in protest, struggling for all her battered body was worth against Yamcha's grip. "Let me go!"  
  
Yamcha had quickly grown tired of this game. He did what Bulma had suggested and released her, but he was not finished yet. Savagely, he backhanded her across the face, sending her borderline-unconscious body to the ground once more. Then he roughly took hold of her long hair and continued dragging her up the ramp of the ship, where he paused to take a final look at Vejitasei with a victorious grin.  
  
Bulma looked also through her half-closed eyes, uselessly fighting the blackness that was threatening to consume her. Her body went limp with the realization that she would most likely never live to see this place of dreams again, and that alone was enough to take the last bits of fight out of her. The last thing that she saw before succumbing to the darkness was the far-off shimmer of the sea.  
  
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Turles' blood boiled at the sight of Bulma's bloodied face, courtesy of her own husband. Never in his life had he witnessed such a pathetic display. He had been sent down by Vejita to make sure that Yamcha didn't kill the woman, and now, after seeing this fiasco, he could be sure that Bulma's life was safe. Yamcha planned to make her life hell for some time, that much was clear.  
  
Originally, he had thought that Bulma would be able to survive the ravagings and such until they were able to save her, but after looking into her eyes for that brief moment, Turles wasn't so sure. For in those teary blue orbs lay much more than fear. What lurked in that one woman's eyes was the depression that he had seen only in the most unfortunte of torture victims. It was the lingering agony that some people were forced to bear all their lives, the kind of wound that did not heal with time-- merely festered, worsened. And much more disturbing than that was the obvious hopelessness that Bulma had betrayed. It was enough to make even the callous Turles wonder what had made life so terrible for this outwardly perfect woman.  
  
Yes, she would survive the attacks physically, but mentally, she was doomed. They would be lucky if she were able to be contained in a fucking straightjacket after all of this.  
  
Seeing that the ship was about to depart, Turles pulled his hood closer and moved back into the palace, where he woudl have to face Prince Vejita's wrath. At this, he scowled. What had he been expecting-- for the bitch to sprout wings and fly away from danger? Not likely, though after all of the strange shit that had been happening lately, Turles hardly would have been surprised.  
  
As he approached the throne room, where everyone (well, everyone important, anyway) was gathered, he took down his hood and tossed his cloak aside. It was too damned hot on this planet to wear it anyway, he complained inwardly. The guards at the doors nodded nervously as he passed, which told him that tempers were flaring inside.  
  
"Should I fear for my life, boys?" he asked, only half-joking.  
  
One of the guards shuddered. "Alls I can say is, don't try to tell Prince Vejita good-afternoon, ya know what I mean?"  
  
His partner chuckled tensely. "Or Queen Magdalene, for that matter."  
  
Turles scowled. They weren't going to take this well.  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
******   
  
A/N: Hey everyone... Hope that I didn't keep ya waiting for too long. This would have been posted yesterday, but thanks to the 'Great American Blackout', I had some difficulties getting it on the damned computer. And by the way, does anybody know whats wrong with Mediaminer? I haven't been able to access that site in ages. Oh well... Hopefully they'll forgive me... sometime this century... ^_^;; Oh yes, and please check out "My Immortal" sung by Evanescence. If you can, please look at the lyrics as well. I think that it perfectly captures the mood of this fic. If fanfiction had a soundtrack, that would be number one on my CD! Hope y'all like it! And thanks soooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much for your fantastic feedback on the last chapter! I coudln't BELIEVE all of the response! I LOOOOOOOVE you guys!!!!!!! Keep it up! Until the next chapter...  
  
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	22. Part Four: 22

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________________________~*Part Four*~: War  
  
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Turles knew that he was in for it the moment he stepped into the room, and not just because of the mildly raised ki signatures, either. Truthfully, the Saiyan council looked pathetic.  
  
Queen Magdalene sat stoicly on her throne, her famous green eyes somber as she stared out a window at the capital city. Her jaw was clenched, and apprehension was evident in her demeanor. She was most likely thinking of the little human, if Turles knew her.  
  
Radditz and Nappa held completely different expressions on their tanned faces. Both looked ready to spring into military action at any moment, and thirsted for human blood on their hands. Part of Turles felt that way, too, but unlike them, he had more control over his primal Saiyan instincts. He had always prided himself on being a less impulsive individual.  
  
Kakkarott sat on one of the steps leading up to the platform where the thrones stood, beside but not too close to his father. He, at least, had the decency to look worried about the impending war. Most people knew him to be just a goofy blockhead, but at times Turles was certain that the man had more to him than that, and he was proving that theory correct now. Out of everyone, Turles pitied him the most because he had made the potentially fatal mistake of letting Vejita's girl slip through his fingers. Frankly, Turles was surprised to see him alive and breathing.  
  
Bardock alone appeared to be prepared for the war. He shuffled through papers and folders hurriedly, muttering to himself as he did so. That was Bardock for you-- always organized. Turles couldn't imagine how the man would put Bulma and Vejita's affair down in his meticulous records, but he was sure that it would be amusing to find out. Later, of course.  
  
So far, the council had been predictable, but it was Prince Vejita who changed all that. Turles' blood ran cold at the sight.  
  
The prince sat in a dark corner of the room, away from everyone else, his ki a flaming halo of angry red light around him, giving him the appearance of one of the evil demons that Turles' mother had warned him about as a troublemaking child. The man's black eyes had glazed over, and he stared blindly ahead of himself, as if seeing into a different dimension entirely. His usually olive complexion had gone ashen and pale, and his entire body was coiled, as though he were on guard for an attack. His whole demeanor reeked fury-- it seemed to come off him in waves. If Turles had thought that things had been bad before, then he wasn't sure what to think now. He had never prepared himself to see the strong and arrogant Prince Vejita sitting in a corner, looking fairly defeated.  
  
When he entered, the room erupted in a flurry of mixed reactions. Radditz and Nappa jumped up, demanding to know if Yamcha had gone so that the war could get started already, and Kakkarott and Bardock asked if Bulma was alright. Magdalene remained seated on her throne, glancing worriedly over at her son to gauge his reaction. The Saiyan Prince said nothing, just shifted his emotionless gaze over to where the commotion was. The only betrayal of his interest was his tail, which uncurled from around his waist and flicked impatiently to and fro with a life of its own. They all clearly expected Turles to speak now.  
  
"She's still breathing," he informed them with a frown. It was a characteristically sullen reply for him. After all of the strange changes going on around here, he wanted to make things as normal as possible for himself. "That's what you wanted to know, right?" He then turned his attention away from them and instead concentrated on finding a comfortable place to sit. That is, until a Saiyan freight train hit him.  
  
"Don't play games with me, you cocky son of a bitch!" Turles found himself at the mercy of his violent prince, held by a gloved hand at his throat. The man's eerie red ki surrounding them both with an uncomfortable heat. Vejita's intense glare scared the shit out of him, though he hated to admit it.  
  
"Whoa there, Vejita-sama!" he said cautiously, holding up his hands in defense. "I didn't mean to mess with you. I assure you, Queen Bulma will survive the ordeal."  
  
"Elaborate."  
  
"The bastard dragged her by the hair to the docks, then he made her stand like a fucking slave. Then he hit her a couple of times-- you know, bashed her around a bit. Then she stood up to him and defended our planet. He asked if she had picked up sarcasm from you, then he split her lip open." Turles swallowed at the mounting wrath in Vejita's eyes. "Then she turned around and saw me. Yamcha assumed that she was looking for you, and said that you wouldn't risk your neck for a woman who was nothing more than good fuck. Then she said something amusing-- something about wanting to be there to watch you kill him."  
  
"She's catching on fast! She'd make a good Saiyan, if she keeps it up!" Radditz exclaimed. When he received six black looks, he shut his mouth.  
  
Turles continued. "Then he fucking jumped her and I thought that it was all over, but then he stopped choking her when she told him off like a stubborn little spitfire. Never thought I'd see her do something ballsy like that. Well, he dragged her to the ship anyway, then knocked her out cold. Sorry Vejita-sama, but her face isn't so perfect anymore."  
  
  
  
Silence as the group absorbed the depressing account, then Vejita released his hold on Turles, much to the other man's relief.  
  
"You're sure that she got a good look at you?"  
  
Turles nodded.  
  
"Its too bad that your sorry ass had to be the last thing that she saw, but at least the woman knows that I was watching."  
  
Magdalene nodded in agreement, thinking back to her own days a victim to her husband's nonexistent mercy. "It may be the only thing that will comfort her during the long nights to come. May Kami watch over the poor girl and shield her from harm."  
  
"She'll make it physically," Turles assured her. Then, more somber, to Vejita, "But mentally... there's only so much that someone can take." His dark eyes went to the floor, thinking of what a waste it all was. Yamcha was slowly ruining the best thing that had ever happened to him-- to all of them.  
  
The prince wanted to appear emotionless, he really did. He wanted nothing more than for them to think that he was handling it coolly, but as Turles had said, you could only take so much. So, much to everyone's surprise, he gave up control and shouted in frustration, his ki bordering on Super Saiyan at the thought of Bulma returning to him as a lifeless shell of a woman, silent and withdrawn into herself. The council winced, each hoping that he would be able to keep himself in check. "When I get my hands on that weak little motherfucker, he'll wish that he had never laid eyes on the woman!" And they all believed him. He had killed for less.  
  
"You would do best to control your temper for now," Magdalene advised wisely. "Before revenge is executed, plans must be made. And for that, we must all keep a cool head."  
  
"Maybe it would be better if we gave him some time--" Kakkarott started, sympathetic for his friend.  
  
"No," Magdalene cut him off. "You don't seem to understand, none of you! For every moment that we speak, Bulma is withstanding unspeakable pain, and Yamcha's armies are gaining strength. It would be wise not to waste any more time on mindless bickering."  
  
The others nodded, but Vejita did not. There was a look in his eyes that worried Magdalene more than any number of screams could have.  
  
"I have no interest in your methodic planning," he snarled, starting to back away from them, towards the door. "I want to be alone, away from all of you imbeciles..."  
  
"But, Vejita--"  
  
Magdalene's protest was met with a slam of the great doors behind Vejita, and a wave of sorrow for his sake.  
  
"Don't attempt to follow him," she ordered, staring after him. "He needs to be alone with his fears."  
  
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Vejita didn't consciously decide where he wanted to go. After exiting the room, his feet just took control, and before he realized where they were taking him, he found himself at the doorway of Bulma and Yamcha's original set of chambers. Seeing that a part of him apparently wanted to enter, he opened the doors and went inside.  
  
Upon entering the rooms, he immediately had the impulse to leave. The smell of Bulma and her sweet perfume was strong in his Saiyan nostrils, and with the lingering smell of Nataliah's blood, it would have been enough to send any weaker person back out. But by no means was Vejita a weak man. He moved boldly forward into the room, taking in his surroundings silently.  
  
Yamcha had apparently packed in a hurry, because all of the closets and drawers were open and half full with belongings. Bulma's vanity was still cluttered with cosmetics, and her multi-colored array of wraps were scattered on the closet floor. Half-heartedly, to relieve some of his stress, he smashed the mirror into thousands of tiny shards with his hands and cleared the desk of all the material things that had been the bane of Bulma's existence. The sound of the cosmetics breaking on the floor didn't help as he had thought it would. Vejita had no concerns for such things, as he knew that Bulma despised all things that made her feel like a china doll. But when he moved on and sighted Bulma's perfume on the bathroom counter, something stirred in him.  
  
He clearly recalled Bulma's childish excitement when she had purchased the bottle, and the way her cheeks had flushed with pleasure at the floral scent. But an even more poignant memory was the smell as it had lingered that first night in his room, heightening the emotion of their lovemaking with its girlish innocence, something that Bulma would have given anything to possess.  
  
Disgusted with his own 'weak' emotions, Vejita turned away from the counter and the bottle, only to come face-to-face with the bloodstained tub that his latest victim had lay in. The guards hadn't done much of a job cleaning up-- either that or they had been interuppted by Yamcha's hasty packing.  
  
Bulma's horrifyed expression and tears over the maid's death were like salt in an open wound to the prince. He had never intended for her to be the one to discover the handmaiden's body, but luck had not been on his side. Thankfully, she did not seem to harbor any hard feelings against him for the crime. After all, it was committed so that she too would be spared punishment. And look how nicely that had turned out. But still, Vejita held a small bit of remorse for being the cause of her stress. It would be the first time he had ever regretted killing anyone, but unfortunately it would not be the last.  
  
He then exited the bathroom and moved out onto the balcony, where doubtlessly Bulma had spent many an occasion dreaming about what could have been. From here, Vejita had a nice veiw of the ocean, and the places where he had taken Bulma to enjoy the sea without having to worry about anyone judging her. In that way, Vejita could most definitely relate to her, because he too went to the coast when he wanted to be alone. If all continued going downhill as it had, he would be down there quite often.  
  
In the distance, the sound of a ship leaving the planet could be detected by his sensitive hearing. Somehow, he knew that it was the humans' ship, and his ki rose in frustration. He should have been there instead of Kakkarott, guarding her when Yamcha had come to take her away! He would not have failed. Guns were no matter to him and his Super Saiyan power. He would have ripped Yamcha apart, and the woman would be here with him now instead of being tortured by the likes of Yamcha on a ship taking her back to a planet that she did not like, and that held danger and misery for her. He found himself wishing that he had been able to deny his pride and refused to give Yamcha time to leave. Fuck his Saiyan honor-- in this case, it was not worth it!  
  
Angrily, he slammed his fists onto the sturdy marble railing, and millions of hairline cracks split the dark stone. He would plot the perfect revenge, he swore to himself, even if it meant bringing down both empires. He would make it known that nobody messed with the Saiyan Empire if they wanted to live.  
  
And best of all, he would get his mate back.  
  
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When Bulma regained consciousness, she found herself on the floor of one of the ship's large, empty meeting rooms. Blinking to adjust her eyes to the bright fluorescent lighting, the woman sat up slowly, every inch of her body aching from both her injuries and the cold, hard floor.  
  
All that occupied the room with her was a long table, one lone chair, and the enormous floor-to-ceiling window that revealed her worst fear. Space. Vast, empty space. They had left Vejitasei.  
  
Bulma knew that she had to conserve what little energy that she had in case Yamcha came back anytime soon, so she sluggishly lifted herself to her hands and knees and crawled over to the window. Then she seated herself in the front of the window, facing the outside. Blue eyes desperately searched the skies for a sign of Vejita-sei, and her broken heart dared to hope that perhaps she would see a ship following them, a ship containing Vejita and his council, who would save her, but there was none.  
  
All that Bulma could see was a small red planet in the distance, a sign of just how far apart she and Vejita were now, and would likely be forever. Stifling her sobs, Bulma turned away from the window and pulled her knees to her chest, and set her chin on her folded arms. Her hot tears spilled over her chin and dripped to the floor, tainted and miscolored with her dark eye makeup. Forlornly, she watched as the drops pooled on the floor beneath her.  
  
She hated herself for being so weak. The first thing she was doing in the face of adversity was crying like a broken woman. Vejita would definitely not do such a thing-- he was probably boldly making war plans, not letting his emotions hold him back for even a minute. Just the thought of him going through all the trouble of war for her made the queen want to curl up and die.   
  
If this was what beauty got you, then she didn't want it. She thought of Kakkarott's plain-faced Chichi, who had probably never had to worry about anything more than what she was going to bake for Kakkarott next. What she wouldn't give to be like that right now.  
  
But wasn't a 'broken woman' what Bulma really was? She had given up hope years ago, after she and Yamcha's engagement was announced,and she hadn't had the strength in her to fight since. So, technically, Yamcha had broken her-- both physically and mentally.  
  
  
  
Bulma shook her head at her own stupidity. What was she doing, trying to justify her tears? She had lost everything. Her world had come crashing down, as well as Yamcha's fists. She had nothing left to do but cry. She had been left no choice but to give up, to succumb to her tragic fate.  
  
The bruised, tear-streaked face turned back to the window. Outside the confinement of the ship, stars twinkled and planets floated in the distance. Once upon a time, the heavenly bodies had given Bulma hope during her darkest hours, but now... they were nothing but collections of dust in the distance, their serenity untouchable and unattainable by the likes of her.  
  
But when she had been with Vejita, her hope had returned, and she had dared to dream. The Saiyan Prince was undoubtedly a man she never would have pictured herself becoming involved with (partly because she had never met anyone quite like him before), but somehow, the match felt right. It felt better than anything she had experienced in her whole life. And even better than that was the fact that out of all the women in the universe, even the more easily had ones, he had chosen her, war-hungry husband and all. Around him, she felt protected.  
  
And look at where they were now-- lightyears apart from each other, each getting a punishment of their own-- Bulma's being torture, his being the stress of combat-- and each sharing similar heartache. Bulma looked to the vast expanse of space that lay between them and tried to think of what it was that she had done to invoke Kami's malice.  
  
Noises from the hallway cut her thoughts short. Through the doors, she could hear Yamcha barking out orders to his guards, no doubt planning for their return to Earth. Instinctively, the queen knew that his next stop would be her, and pressed herself closer to the cold glass like a frightened child. Fear took hold of her entire body-- fear of Yamcha beating her to slowly to death, savoring her pain.  
  
Sniffling, Bulma stared at the tiny spot that was Vejitasei and pressed her palm to the window, as if trying to reach out and touch the faraway planet. Her fingers trembled and uselessly gripped the glass, but she didn't care.  
  
She just wanted somebody-- anybody-- to come and save her.  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
******   
  
(A/N): Hi guys! I hope that you all like the quick update... To tell you the truth, I finished this chapter in a few hours. Maybe because I've been planning for these chapters for almost six months now... LOL! Well, at least something is getting done. On FF.net, anyway. I still haven't been able to update the last couple chapters on Mediaminer... -_-;; But anyway, I must be on a musical roll here because I was listening to the Fuel CD when I was typing Vejita's POV, and that song "Hemorrhage (In My Hands)" fits him so well. I think so, anyway. ^_~ Geez, maybe I SHOULD make an 'Unfaithful' soundtrack. LOL! And wow! Almost 400 reviews!!! I could die right here and now! THANKS... SOO... FRICKIN... MUCH! You all are way too good to me. Maybe that motivated me to write fast... oh well. I'll stop babbling and get on with it already, ok? Ja ne, and please remember to tell me what you think! Until the next chapter...  
  
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	23. Part Four: 23

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
  
  
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________________________~*Part Four*~: War  
  
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Even without using his ability to sense Vejita's ki, Kakkarott would have been able to find the prince easily. After mustering up some much-needed courage, he took the steps required to take him into Bulma and Yamcha's old chambers.  
  
Vejita's presence here was undeniable-- Bulma's vanity mirror had been shattered, her cosmetics broken on the floor, and the scent of a Saiyan's anger and sadness was strong in the air. Kakkarott moved past the ruined vanity, giving the disaster area a dark look before turning to the balcony, where he knew that Vejita would be. And sure enough, the man's slouched figure could be seen from among the broken rock that used to be the railing. Kakkarott paused before going any closer.  
  
After they had made what little plans they could without Vejita, Magdalene had dismissed the others and pulled Kakkarott aside, her voice shaking with worry. Kakkarott hadn't seen her so stirred up in years.  
  
"Go after him," she had ordered. The intensity in her odd-colored eyes had made it difficult for him to keep the eye contact and made him fidget nervously. "He needs someone who was involved to talk to him. To tell you the truth, I am almost afraid to leave him alone when he's like this."  
  
Kakkarott had not been so excited. "It would be unforgivable to invade his privacy right now. And besides that, Vejita's never been a good one for intimate chats. He'll be fine."  
  
"No." Magdalene smiled a melancholy smile. "You do not understand-- Bulma means more to him then we all think. He's taking this hard, and doubtless he's thinking of some dangerous way to exact revenge. Just go, Kakkarott. See if you can at least talk him out of doing something rash. Remind him that his actions could put Bulma in danger as well."  
  
Seeing that he had no choice, Kakkarott had sighed. "I'll try." Then, more quietly, "Do you think that they've developed a-- a..." He hesitated to say the near-sacred word. "Bond?"  
  
Magdalene's eyes twinkled with some sort of maternal pride, for the very same thought had crossed her mind frequently as well. "That remains to be seen, my friend."  
  
"I hope they did," Kakkarott remarked, sounding more like his normal self. "It would be funny to see how Vejita would handle having someone to spoil besides himself!"  
  
"Go on, you fool!" Magdalene chided with a touch of humor in her voice. "Talk some sense into my son, and remember-- don't provoke his temper."  
  
Kakkarott had shuddered. He needed no reminder for that. "I'll do my best."  
  
Magdalene turned somber. "In times such as these, Kakkarott, that is all we can do."  
  
He could not help but think that sometimes, even that was not enough.  
  
So now he stood at the balcony, staring at the broad back of his potential murderer. Vejita must have sensed him by now, he reasoned, so he might as well get on with it. Bravely, he stepped out onto the balcony, wringing his hands together tensely.  
  
Vejita surprised him with his quiet reaction. "Speak up now, Kakkarott, so that I won't have to deal with you any longer than I have to."  
  
Shell-shocked, Kakkarott crossed the space and sat down beside (but with no less than a foot or two between them) him and dangled his legs over the now railing-less balcony edge. "Did the humans leave yet?" Immediately after spitting that out, he mentally slapped himself. What the hell was his problem?!  
  
Vejita nodded. "They'll be halfway to their overpopulated planet by now."  
  
"You know, this wasn't your fault." Kakkarott knew he had pinpointed one of the major problems when the prince snorted to cover up his sudden tensing.  
  
"You of all people should know that I waste no time on self-loathing, Kakkarott," was the curt reply. "It doesn't matter who's fucking fault it was now, does it? All that matters is war-- revenge."  
  
"Bulma would kill me if I let you do something risky," Kakkarott said, trying not to sound too much like a parent. "And getting yourself killed would make things that much worse for her."  
  
Vejita lifted his chin in defiance. "I am not a dumbass. There would be no point in revenge if I did not plan to live to taste the fruits of my labor."  
  
Kakkarott nodded. He was right-- he was not likely to plot something that involved his death. But still... that did not mean that wouldn't try to pull a stunt that would get countless others killed in the process. "I wish that we had just taken Bulma while we had the chance."  
  
"Then you are a fool," Vejita snapped. "If we had done that, Yamcha would make it out to look like we're criminals. Then he would be able to enlist other empires to his aid." He shook his head. "Don't you think that I've thought of that already? Damn, Kakkarott! Sometimes the extent of your idiocy is truly amazing."  
  
Kakkarott, accustomed to such comments from this man, let the insult roll off is back like water. He knew better than to keep on about such a touchy subject for too long, so he quit and moved on. "Some people think that you and Bulma share a bond."  
  
Vejita seemed startled at this. "Some people as in Magdalene, am I correct? Damn her and her sentimental insights..."  
  
"But its true, isn't it?"  
  
Coal-black eyes studied him sharply "Its too early to tell. I have not claimed her yet. For her sake and mine, I am glad that the bond hasn't shown up yet."  
  
Kakkarott nodded. It truly would be a terrible and horrifying experience to have to bear the burden of your mate's problems on top of your own, especially when you were in a situation like Bulma and Vejita's. Vejita was smart to think that way.  
  
"Magdalene sent you here to try to reform my plans into less violent ones, didn't she?" Kakkarott didn't even have to confirm the guess. "That woman is wearing on my nerves. I am thinking of overturning the paranoid bitch and assuming the throne so that this war can be done right."  
  
Kakkarott felt a chill go up his spine. In the grip of his temper and malice, Vejita would not make the kind of king that he wanted to live under. "If you did that," he said quietly. "Then you would be acting just like your dad."  
  
Vejita at first looked shocked at the honest comment, but then his expression turned to one of anger. "My father would have killed Bulma after getting what he wanted, then used it to taunt Yamcha while he sent millions of soldiers to die at the hands of the humans' guns. He was a coward. Do not ever compare me to that son of a bitch again, if you want to live."  
  
Kakkarott's expression was hopeful. "Then you won't do it?"  
  
"I am a different kind of leader," he replied, his monotonous voice betraying nothing. "I would not assume the throne if I did not think it necessary."  
  
"I understand," Kakkarott replied, but he wasn't so sure whether he wanted to accept that answer or not. Vejita was extremely unpredictable-- anything could happen.  
  
  
  
"Do you?" Vejita met his companion's eyes steadily and with a bit of a warning in them. "I don't believe you, Kakkarott. If you understood, then you wouldn't have asked me the fucking question." The prince then stood and left the room, leaving Kakkarott to mull over his response.  
  
And the more he thought about it, the higher the stakes rose. Something was going to happen, and soon. If only Kakkarott could put his finger on it...  
  
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"Cowering is not something that queens are supposed to do, but it suits you I think."  
  
Bulma, due to her thought and tears, had not heard Yamcha slip into the room. Afraid for her life, she instantly jumped up, her sore body screaming in protest, and never took her eyes off of her husband, who looked like the cat who had successfully cornered a mouse-- her.  
  
"I should have guessed that you would be pressed up against the glass, pining away for your dear monkey prince," Yamcha continued, noticing her tear-streaked face. He sitting on the edge of the table in the center of the room now, watching her every move. And every tear fall. "Your eyes are red now, darling. That's hardly the state that you should be returned to Earth in."  
  
Cowardly of him not to comment on her bruises and cuts by his own hand, Bulma thought scornfully. Their people would be much more preoccupied over them-- they would wouldn't even notice something so insignificant as red eyes. And even if they did, they wouldn't dare do anything about it. Nobody held even a touch of sympathy for a queen that supposedly had everything.  
  
  
  
"But its no matter. People will be much more concerned with the war. I will have no choice but to appoint all able-bodied men and boys to the army." He enjoyed the horrified look on Bulma's face at this. "Oh yes, men and boys. I think that all over age ten should suffice, don't you think? I mean, after hearing the sad tale of Prince Vejita raping and abusing you, they will be motivated to fight for me. I did, after all, save you from his wrath."  
  
"If they will become motivated at that, then how do you suppose they would feel if they knew the roles were reversed?" Bulma asked in a low voice. "What would become of your war plans then?"  
  
Yamcha's calm facade faltered for the briefest moment at that, but then the cool mask was in place again. "I won't even acknowledge such an outlandish statement. My men are loyal to me, even if you are not."  
  
"They are not so loyal as you think," Bulma hissed, not exactly knowing where all of this talk was coming from. Perhaps it was the thought that if Vejita were here, he would have been proud of her. "When you turn your back, they share mockeries and laugh at your drunkenness!"  
  
"Silence!" he roared, lunging at her impulsively. When he was close, gripping the front of her torn wrap, Bulma could see that his face had gone slightly red, and veins stood out in his neck. "You will only speak when prompted, do you hear me? And even then, I demand compliance, or else you shall wear the marks of your insolence on your body." To prove his claim, he grabbed her chin and socked her right in the jaw. Bulma tasted metallic blood as she recoiled from the blow, her face turned away from Yamcha.  
  
"It takes a coward to hit a woman," she finally managed, moving painfully to face him. As she held his angry gaze, she could not help but think how hard it was to be brave. Finally, she couldn't take it any longer. With a stifled sob, she turned away from her enraged husband.  
  
"You don't invoke even the slightest bit of remorse or sympathy in me, you sniveling little cunt!" Yamcha finally spat, his face twisted into an unattractive mask of mixed anger and surprise. Then he turned and called to one of his guards, who entered carrying chains and shackles. At the sight of them, Yamcha grinned, while Bulma felt her heart drop.  
  
Yamcha took the pieces of heavy metal, then dismissed the guard. "I wanted to have the pleasure of putting them on myself," he explained with an excited smile. "You see, you have left me with no choice. I cannot risk you escaping, or committing suicide, for that matter. I can't live without you, can you understand that?"  
  
Bulma could not think of what to do or what she could say to this. All she knew was that there was no way to save herself from this one, and that once those shackles were on, Yamcha could do whatever he wanted with her. The queen was rendered numb and speechless as he began to put the things on, humming a battle hymn under his breath. Unconsciously, she noted that he was singing off-key.  
  
"These smaller ones go around each of your tiny ankles, darling," Yamcha informed her as he put them on. The metal was cold and uncomfortably tight on her skin. "I am going to attach chains to them, you see, so that you cannot run away. Those chains will then be attached to this table here for the time being." Bulma dumbly watched as he attached the chains to the legs of the chairs, with obvious pleasure. Then he approached her again. "And now there's a metal collar of sorts, that goes around your neck and has a chain that I will also attach to the table. When we are on the move, however, it will also suffice as a sort of... leash." The 'collar' was heavy and restricting, and Bulma had to adjust her neck just to hold it up and to breathe. "There we go!" Yamcha annouced. "That should hold it for now. I have other business to attend to for now though, sweets, so any... experimentation will have to wait until later.  
  
Blue eyes never left the ground as he stood, brushed himself off, and looked her over once more before taking his leave.  
  
"Its a shame that I hadn't thought of this before," he commented, almost to himself. "I find the idea of chains and shackles to be quite erotic, don't you think?"  
  
The knowledge that he would most likely test this theory on her later made Bulma want to vomit. Unfortunately, she had neither the nourishment nor the strength to do so. Before Yamcha had even left the room, the queen had fallen into a trancelike state that could by no means be called resting.  
  
For once, Bulma did not have to worry about nightmares, because she was living one.  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
******   
  
(A/N): Hey all! Sorry about the shorter chapter. It isn't because of laziness or writer's block or anything, its just because there is no way that I could group the upcoming events with all of this stuff. They need a chapter of their own... *evil smile as the readers glower at her almost, kind-of spoiler* But anyway, I would have posted this sooner but school started and all that, so I've been a bit preoccupied. (God how I despise school!)   
  
Also, I have been on the lookout for another good fic lately. I've been having trouble finding one that interests me though. Would it be so large a favor to ask you guys to keep me posted on what quality fics are out there right now? I would appreciate your help very, very much!  
  
And finally, a note on the next chapter... Umm... I think that I can have it posted in no more than five days, seeing that I already have half of it written and the other half outlined. Keep an eye out, because you just never know. Until then... oh yes, and please remember to review! ^_~  
  
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	24. Part Four: 24

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Earth looked completely different than the humdrum place that they had left behind, Bulma observed as their ship entered the atmosphere. Beside her, Yamcha also noted the changes, and grinned. It had most likely been by his orders that the chance came about anyway. Apparently, Bulma had been left out of the loop, because the other people in the control room didn't do anything-- not even bat an eye.  
  
Everywhere around the palace and the surrounding city was crawling with soldiers. They were everywhere-- milling around the city, marching in lines, camping in the streets. The dark smoke from their fires lingered in the air above them, casting the area in a dismal shadow. The only sign of the normal citizens was the occasional woman being dragged kicking and screaming from her home, only to be ravaged by the laughing men. If she knew nothing else, this would have been enough to tell Bulma that it was going to be a very messy war.  
  
"Amazing, isn't it?" Yamcha asked from beside her, his voice lowered so that only she could hear. "This isn't even the half of it-- just wait until I start to recruit the men and boys of the cities."  
  
Bulma remained numb on the outside, but inside she was appalled. It was so like Yamcha to send children into war. Imagining their young, innocent faces, the queen felt tears well in her eyes. But she did not let them fall. She had shed her last tear for Yamcha already.  
  
"I know what you're thinking," Yamcha said when she did not reply. "You think that I'm full of shit. You think that I'm trying to blow off steam, don't you?"  
  
"No, I am not," Bulma protested as urgently as she dared. Yamcha would explode if she didn't placate him. "I was thinking that perhaps its time to remove my chains. We're about to land."  
  
Her statement worked. Rather than grow angrier, Yamcha burst out laughing. "Remove your chains? There's a slim chance of that." His laughter quieted. "No, my dear, I have no plans to remove them. You have committed a crime, and for that I must punish you. For now, anyone who walks past will see their 'dignified' queen in chains, like some kind of fucking animal."  
  
Bulma's stomach did flip-flops. They would see her in chains, paying for her crime... Kami, she thought with dismay. He planned to blame the war on her! All of that pointless death, placed on her shoulders for the world to see... That was almost enough to cause her to release her stifled tears.  
  
"But never fear," Yamcha reassured her. "You will still be the most beautiful woman to walk the Earth."  
  
"We're preparing to land, Your Majesties," a guard informed them with a bow. "Brace yourself."  
  
"Ooh, I can hardly wait to see the look on your lady mother's face! To think, the daughter of Lady Briefs dallying with the Saiyan Prince! Priceless."  
  
Bulma would not even allow herself to think about her mother. But what she did think about was the excuse that Yamcha would soon have to make for the war. First he would tell everyone that Vejita had raped her, to arouse pity and to berate the Saiyans, then he would tell him that she'd enjoyed it, therefore he had been forced to put her in chains for the unthinkable 'crime'. Filled with mixed emotions and a fear of their king, the people would have to believe it, and would feel proud to fight for him. It was a nearly perfect plan, but not an unbeatable one. After all, the humans may have been afraid of Yamcha, but they were even more scared of Vejita. But would she even live to see the day when her husband was brought down?  
  
The ship landed with little turbulence, and Yamcha gave the chain around Bulma's neck a sharp tug, causing her to gasp for breath helplessly.  
  
"Paste a smile on your face," he advised her coldly. "We've arrived at last."  
  
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Turles knocked on Prince Vejita's doors gingerly, then, when he heard no response, glanced over his shoulder and entered. The curtains were all closed, and besides the medium-sized candle chandelier hanging over Vejita's minibar, the room seemed to be swathed in a cloak of darkness. It seemed fitting.  
  
Just a little over an hour ago, he had received word that Vejita wanted to speak to with him in his royal chambers. And a private summons like that could have only meant one thing-- the Saiyan Prince was planning something shady, something that he did not want anyone else to know. Ever since they were children, Turles and Vejita had been the two of the group who had thought the most alike (besides Radditz and Nappa-- they were equally blockheaded). Whenever he had thought of something especially mischevious (such as the prank involving Bardock, a paintball gun, and a very expensive cloak that they had masterminded years ago), Vejita had always called upon Turles for a second opinion, even if he wasn't always ready to accept someone else's advice. But this time, Turles had a feeling that they would be planning something far more dangerous than a mere prank.  
  
"You're late."  
  
Turles started at the sudden appearance of Vejita as he stepped into the light. But even more startling than the entrance was the look of the prince-- dark, murderous narrowed eyes, gloved hands clasped behind his back, and a frown that could scare away even the boldest of men. All in all, he looked like a wild thing. Feral, even.  
  
"Sorry, Vejita-sama, but I didn't want to cause suspicion."  
  
"Bullshit. You were apprehensive."  
  
He had been caught in a lie. "A little, but only because I know what you are capable of when you get pissed off."  
  
Vejita's frown turned into a smirk for a split second as he crossed through the shadows over to the bar. "So I don't have to explain why you are here."  
  
Turles shook his head.  
  
"Good." Vejita leaned back in a chair at the minibar and watched Turles come closer, more into the light. "I have a plan."  
  
  
  
"I thought so." He was almost to the bar now. "What is it?"  
  
"I want Magdalene out of my way so that I can win this war. There isn't a way to play without being dirty, you understand that. Magdalene, however, doesn't." Vejita crossed his arms. "She'll impede on my progress unless something is done."  
  
Turles was hesitant to jump on board this time. "How exactly do you want to 'get her out of your way', Vejita?"  
  
"I don't want to kill her, you idiot!" Vejita corrected him, picking up on Turles' thoughts. "I just want her on the sidelines, do you grasp that?"  
  
Right now, Vejita reminded Turles of a rattlesnake-- poised, ready to strike before his enemies noticed his scorn. "I don't know this time," he said carefully. "You could be charged with treason."  
  
Vejita looked away, and Turles knew that he thought of Bulma, merciless and most likely in danger at the hands of Yamcha. He could almost smell the other man's fury. Revenge-- that's what this was about. "I don't give a damn," he finally said, looking up to face Turles. "I would rather be exiled than sit idle knowing that Yamcha is still breathing, and knowing that the woman is at his mercy.  
  
Turles would and always had been loyal to the crown, most especially Magdalene, who was like a mother to him, but he could not refuse. The look in Vejita's tormented eyes was enough. First and foremost, a Saiyan was loyal to his friends. With a shaky smile, he held out his hand. "I'm with you to the end, Vejita-sama. Whenever that may be."  
  
The prince took his hand and the frown changed into a crooked smile. "I knew you'd come around." Because if he hadn't, Vejita would have had to kill him on the spot.  
  
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From her spot amongst the group of other women who had been taken from the city for the soldiers' entertainment, the woman had a clear view of the king and queen's ship as it landed near the palace.  
  
Men swarmed around the landing area, clamoring to catch a glimpse of the king or maybe even his enchanting bride. The woman's group had also moved forward, and were lucky enough to be able to stand right in front, about one hundred and fifty feet from the ship. The crowd murmured and shouted as the exit ramp lowered. The King's personal guards made their way down first, checking for any danger. Then came a small group of less important guards and pilots.  
  
Impatient, the woman huffed and tapped her foot in an unladylike manner. She wished that she had a cigarette to relieve her nerves-- they weren't very proper for a woman like her, but she was too far gone to stop now. It hardly mattered anymore-- all sense of what was right had vanished among the city as soon as war had been declared. One of the other females beside her shook her head.  
  
"This isn't a show, you know," she scolded, her eyes still on the ship, contradicting her words. "The king and queen are nothing special."  
  
Oh, but they were, the woman thought. King Yamcha was holding the planet's fate in his unsteady hands, and Queen Bulma... well, only the woman understood just how special she really was.  
  
Then, the royal couple stepped onto the ramp and began to descend. When they spotted them, however, the crowd went still with shock.  
  
Normally, the monarchs emerged from their ship or the palace with interlocking arms and identical fake smiles. Even though they knew better, it was much easier for the people to pretend that all was well with the famous couple that way. Never in their entire reign had the two ever acted against each other in public. But now... the woman gasped and pressed her clammy hands to her cheeks, trying to wake herself up from this nightmare.  
  
Rather than leading her down the ramp, King Yamcha nearly dragged a disheveled Bulma out of the ship using wicked-looking chains. Never in her life had the woman ever seen such cold treatment. The royal couple struggled down the ramp, finally allowing their people to witness what was really going on behind the closed doors of the palace.  
  
The woman inwardly seethed at Yamcha's reaction to the stunned crowd. He led Bulma like an animal he was particularly proud of, and gloated and grinned at the crowds. Seeing this sorry display now confirmed all the rumors of Yamcha's masterminding his father's death so that he could assume the throne. The woman could easily see this man doing that without a second thought.  
  
If Yamcha made her want to scream, then Bulma almost drove her to tears. Where there had once been a lively, spirited soul was now just an empty shell of a woman. She was still achingly beautiful, of course, but her cerulean eyes were dull, and her face stuck into an expression of despair. Her Saiyan-styled wrap was torn and wrinkled, her hair tumbling out of its pins, and her eyeliner was smeared around dark circles and red eyes. Many bruises, old and new, dotted her overly-slim body, her jaw seemed to be injured, and her lip had been split open recently. All in all, she looked like the sole survivor of a natural disaster. Some of the more vulnerable women in the group cried softly at the injustice of it all. Yamcha's words might be able to fool the men, but the women all knew exactly who had done this to their queen. What was the world coming to when even the very goddess among them was beaten by her husband?   
  
"It is certainly good to be home," Yamcha started with an oily smile. As he spoke he tugged on Bulma's chain as if in warning. "But I bring you bad news. The barbarian Prince Vejita has committed unspeakable crimes against our empire, thus the reason for war. You see?" He pulled Bulma into clearer view of the people, brushing her hair out of her face so that they could see her expression and bruises. For her part, Bulma remained as emotionless as a china doll. "He has dared to rape and ravage our queen, my wife, and then used his fists to beat her into submission. But even more shocking than that, my loyal subjects, is the fact that even through her tears, Queen Bulma enjoyed the perverse treatment. And for that, they both must pay!"  
  
The woman knew better than to believe Yamcha's lies. She might not be able to explain exactly how Prince Vejita was involved, but somehow she knew that Yamcha was the one who had done this to Bulma. But unfortunately, the testoserone-driven soldiers believed him. They roared in compliance.  
  
"After tonight, we shall start on our mission for the Saiyans' blood!" Yamcha shouted, lifting one of Bulma's limp, thin arms in emphasis. "I want every male citizen over age ten to fight. I shall meet with you later tonight. In the meantime, celebrate our upcoming victory as best you can."  
  
Then he was pulling Bulma to the palace, where they disappeared, followed by their guards. It was the most bizarre event in anyone's memory, but the celebrating commenced anyway. Soon, all but the war had been promptly forgotten.  
  
The woman followed her group back to their designated area, but she chose to hang back a little, for try as she might, she could not get Bulma's lifeless eyes out of her head. Something wasn't right here. If Bulma had simply gotten a beating from Yamcha (a common occurence indeed), then why would she look so... hopeless? Heartbroken, even.  
  
The thought stayed with her all night. While the others partied, she sat alone, lost in thought.  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
******   
  
(A/N): Another shorter chapter, but I promise you, the next one will be twice as long, and twice as eventful. Will Vejita and Turles go through with their plans of 'disposing of' Magdalene? How will they do it? And what of Bulma? How will she survive meeting up with her mother again? Haha, I sound like that announcer guy in DBZ... pathetic, so I'll shut up now. Anyway, that chapter will be out before Monday, if nothing delays me.  
  
The fic is coming to a close soon (only a few more chapters to this part, maybe... five??, and then another brief part of the story, then its all over! OmG!) so here's a few words on my future plans. After this fic, I'm thinking of publishing a one-shotter that I've been mulling over for the past few weeks. I'm not gonna give away any details yet, because even I'm not completely sure yet, so keep an eye out for more news on that. And then after that... I think I've mentioned that I've come up with another idea for an epic a while back, did I not? It was inspired by Kira Anne (if you're reading this, surprise! thanks for the inspiration, even if it wasn't intentional!) and its gonna be pretty good I think. B/V... for sure! ^_~  
  
And thanks everyone for your fic suggestions! Especially Kichi, who gave me a whole list of ideas. I think I've been living under a rock or something, because I JUST stumbled upon Camaro's fic "Dark Angel", after its been so popular for so long. *Blushes* I feel like such a moron. But anyway, thats what I'm occupied with at the moment, and if you have any other suggestions, feel free to share them!  
  
Special thanks to DevilishTrick, who's been e-mailing me on my AOL account lately. Its great to hear directly from someone for a change!  
  
So, please remember to review, and see ya in the next chapter...  
  
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	25. Part Four: 25

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
  
  
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The early morning sun cast warm, dappled light over the just-awakening people of Vejitasei. The cheery atmosphere belied what a dark night the Saiyan council had had, a fact that only irritated them more. But no one was quite as restless as Queen Magdalene.  
  
She paced the small courtyard area of her gardens, waiting for Bardock to arrive. He had sent word to her at the crack of dawn, requesting a 'private meeting', whatever that meant. It was also rather strange that he would choose this of all places to meet her at. Why here, where only the most confidential of Magdalene's discussions took place?  
  
In a way, she was glad that he had set this up. It appeared that she hadn't been the only one to sense the danger in the air the previous night. No, there was no mistaking it-- something had transpired within the palace under the cover of darkness, and there was no doubt in Magdalene's mind that it did not bode well for the impending war. Bardock had always been a very observing man; maybe he had discovered what had happened.  
  
"Morning, Your Majesty."  
  
Magdalene turned and smiled wryly at her old friend. "I can't help but notice that you did not call it a 'good morning', Bardock."  
  
"I cannot label it something that it is not, my lady."  
  
"So you felt it, too." Magdalene sat down and motioned for him to do the same. "Please tell me that you know what happened."  
  
  
  
Bardock looked grim. "I'm not sure that you want to hear it."  
  
Delicate brows snapped together. "Don't dance around the point-- come to it. Of course I want to hear."  
  
"I was on my way to the training facility last night to work off my nerves, and naturally, I passed Prince Vejita's chambers." Magdalene's eyes narrowed at the mention of her son, and the possibility that he was the cause of her dark feelings, but remained silent as Bardock spoke. After all, it was not like her to jump in before hearing an opinion. "And exiting them was none than Turles, and he looked like he was about to carry out the orders of Satan himself. I mean, the man actually stopped and vomited from what I assume to be nervousness." Magdalene's stomach dropped-- Vejita and Turles plotting together was never a good thing, especially in the midst of war. "We both know that Turles doesn't startle easily. Nothing short of a mass murder plot could get him shaken up. I don't like it, Your Majesty. Vejita is too affected by all of this to be trusted with last minute war plans. For all we know, he and Turles could be planning an invasion for tonight, or an alliance with Frieza, or--"  
  
"That's quite enough, Bardock!" Magdalene stopped, her expression tight and disbelieving. "I refuse to believe that my son is dabbling in such evil conduct. Its not in his character."  
  
Bardock was not so sure. "He isn't in his right mind now, Magdalene. And besides, think of his father-- geneticts are inevitable, you know."  
  
"My son is nothing like that... that manipulating piece of filth!" Magdalene shouted suddenly, knocking her cup of tea and plate clattering to the ground. Her bright green eyes flashed with just-barely contained fury. "How dare you compare the two, Bardock Son! What right have you to come here and accuse him of such crimes?"  
  
"I am on your council, but first and foremost Magdalene, I am your friend," Bardock spoke calmly. "I would never think of it if I didn't have legitimate reasoning behind it. You know that."  
  
Magdalene did not react for a moment, just standing there, frozen in one emotion. Then, she took a deep breath and sat down again. "I know, Bardock, and I'm sorry. I wouldn't have acted up so much if I didn't think that there might be a bit of truth behind your claim. I admit, the same thought had crossed my mind, but I still cannot believe that he will be the cause of any real danger."  
  
"I understand." Bardock sounded sincere, but no amount of motherly defense could convince him that Vejita was completely innocent. The reaction from Turles was just too bizarre. But in this matter, he had no choice. "I just think it wise to keep a close eye on those two for the time being. Even an innocent prank could trigger chaos right now."  
  
Magdalene agreed grudgingly, then glanced forlornly down at her spilled tea. "Damn my Saiyan temper. The next time I attempt to knock something over, by all means stop me."  
  
Bardock had to smile. "That I can do."  
  
Something he couldn't stand to do-- sit around and wait for something to happen. But he had no choice. All that he could do was wait.  
  
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The palace had changed during their visit to Vejitasei, or at least it looked so in Bulma's eyes. Besides the obvious hustle and bustle of war planning and soldier-appointing, things were different.  
  
The white marble of the floors and gray walls were almost unbearably bland and boring. The tapestries and paintings depicted dull landscapes and sugarcoated scenes of history that had undoubtedly happened quite differently. The rooms seemed small and badly decorated, and the lighting was far too bright to display the gaudy, overpriced decor in its best light. All of these things stuck out to Bulma now. She had come to a rude awakening-- what Earth lacked was culture and diversity.  
  
But even more different than the surroundings was the people. They all looked the same-- men dressed in plain, dull colors and identical styles, pale and unmuscled, and the women all tied up in corsets and dresses that wore the woman, not the other way around. Their hair was tightly pinned, their faces caked with makeup, and never did they even think of doing anything to attract attention to themselves. And their skin-- nearly transluscent! Bulma had noticed these things before, but they had never been as clear to hear as they were now.  
  
Another realization-- she could never live among all of this blandness. Not that she had the will to try.  
  
The sight of Yamcha leading her around in chains was enough to make even the most demure of nobles balk and chatter under their breath. And only adding to that was her wild appearance-- torn Saiyan wrap, disheveled hair, red eyes, bruises, and cuts made her look like a savage to them. But of course, no one attempted to help her. The thought probably hadn't even crossed their minds. But as sure as Bulma knew her own name was the fact that word would have gone through the palace in under an hour. No, there would be no help for Bulma here.  
  
"Home sweet home!" Yamcha exclaimed as he led her into the room of their destination-- the throne room. Unfortunately for Bulma, the room was not empty. She would have rather had it full of nobles than occupied by this one person. "Lady Briefs, how were you during our extended absence?"  
  
Lady Briefs stepped down from her temporary place on the throne and started towards them, her face almost as tight as her corset. "How do you think?" she snapped. "Things went smoothly enough until you sent word of war. It was all I could do to keep the people under control. The thought of battle with the Saiyans frightened them."  
  
"Good," Yamcha replied. "They should be scared. It will keep them on their toes."  
  
Rather than address Yamcha's statement, Lady Briefs' cold blue eyes rested on her daughter. At the sight of her poor condition, she shook her head as if it were entirely Bulma's fault. For her part, Bulma remained numb and stared ahead with dead eyes. "Kami, girl, whatever did you do to yourself? You look awful. And what on Earth are you wearing?"  
  
  
  
Yamcha answered for her. "I didn't have time to change her out of the Saiyan rags. As for what she did to herself, I'm sure that you were able to come to a conclusion after reading my letter."  
  
"Oh yes," Lady Briefs assured him, her accusing, judgemental eyes never leaving her daughter. "I can only imagine how terrible this trip has been on you. Would you mind excusing us for a moment, my king? Don't worry about her restraints-- she has nowhere to go right now."  
  
Yamcha shrugged and handed the chain to her, then exited the room, where he chatted with a guard.  
  
Disgusted, Lady Briefs examined Bulma. "Of all the idiot things to have done," she hissed, her voice dripped with malice. "How could you foul our good name and reputation this way? Sleeping with the Saiyan Prince, the worst of them all! Its an act that suits you, I suppose. You always were a little slut, though I do hear that the man is mildly good-looking."  
  
Vejita's strong hands and smooth, tanned skin against her own... Bulma could only feel that. Not her mother's scornful tirade.  
  
"But nonetheless, he is a barbarian and our enemy. And you are a married woman." Lady Briefs gave the chain around Bulma's neck a sharp yank to emphasize her words. "You are lucky that you have a pretty face, or Yamcha would hang you for your crimes."  
  
"I almost wish that he would," Lady Briefs continued. She didn't seem to possess even a speck of motherly compassion. "Because then I could finally be rid of you and your foolishness."  
  
Nothing. Bulma felt nothing.  
  
"You are an abomination! A waste of breathing air. If it weren't for your attractiveness and the fruits that could be reaped from it, you would be nothing. I would have smothered you in your sleep long ago so that I wouldn't be burdened with your idiotic wants and needs. Or else I would have dumped you in the street, where you could at least get payed for being such a whore!"  
  
Piano music. Waves lapping against the shore. The simple joy of dancing to the loud Saiyan drums. Glittering stars. Warm, protected arms around her...  
  
"If I could, I would send you to rot in hell with your good-for-nothing father. I would--"  
  
"Lady Briefs!" Yamcha had returned, with a guard following behind him. "Come now-- Bulma must be dressed and cleaned up. Then we are to go look over my new troops."  
  
Bulma's mother was annoyed by the interupption, but did not protest. She was not in charge anymore. "Of course. How do you want her dressed?"  
  
Yamcha looked over Bulma's slender body with a greedy smile. "To the nine's, my lady. Shouldn't our queen always look her best, even when healing from Prince Vejita's merciless attack?"  
  
Lady Briefs imitated her conniving smile with one of her own. "She shall look like an angel, then. Even if she hasn't behaved like one."  
  
The king's smile faded. "That will be dealt with later. For now, she is to look flawless."  
  
Magdalene's kind green eyes. Nappa and Radditz laughing, and Turles glaring at them as though he weren't laughing inwardly at their crude humor. Kakkarott's impish grin. Almost like a real family. Vejita smirking, not even once giving a thought to what everyone else thought of him. Magnolia trees swaying in a warm, fragrant breeze.  
  
"Come on," Lady Briefs snapped as she led Bulma from the room impatiently. "Its about time that we get you into proper attire again."  
  
Pain as the woman's long fingernails dug into her tender skin, then more as the chain around her neck was picked up and tugged on by Yamcha. Bulma only briefly thought of resisting, but with another pull on the chains, Yamcha had banished the feeble idea.  
  
"I can only imagine how wonderful it will feel to be properly clothed again," Lady Briefs commented as they went along at their brisk pace. "Those Saiyan garments are just awful."  
  
The thought of being locked up and suffocated in a corset again made Bulma want to pick out a noose for herself, saving Yamcha and her mother the trouble. Here she was again-- back to her cage after tasting just enough freedom to leave her depressed and craving for more. Was she forever destined for disappointment and misery? Would she ever feel the sun warm her skin again? 'The caged songbird never sings...' Was that what she had become?  
  
They had arrived at Bulma's rooms now, and Yamcha left them after conversing with her mother under his breath. Giving her directions as to how he wanted her to look, no doubt. And from the looks of it, Lady Briefs was all too happy to comply.  
  
"He wants you to look vulnerable, innocent," the noblewoman scoffed once he was out of earshot. "He wants to arouse pity from the soldiers, to motivate them."  
  
Bulma had already known this. She remained a shell, silent and monotonous.  
  
"Speak when spoken to!" her mother scolded. Bulma knew better-- she just wanted to hear her daughter cower and go along with her plans. So predictable. "Stop your pouting, girl. The Saiyans will be here soon enough, and then they will be slaughtered, out of our lives forever. Thank Kami for that!"  
  
Bulma was led into a her old chambers-- the dull, conformed box that she had never really felt welcome in, and then straight back to her dressing room. She was a little surprised that she hadn't been taken to she and Yamcha's chambers initially, then she realized-- nothing in that wardrobe was quite right for a woman who wanted to look vulnerable and innocent. Black lace and elaborate red gowns weren't exactly pity-inducing.  
  
Lady Briefs wasted no time. Immediately she motioned for a waiting maid to undress Bulma, then searched through the closet for an ensemble. The maid did her best to hide her shock at the state of Bulma's body, but to the queen it was plain as day that she was stifling gasps as she uncovered more of her queen's unhealed wounds. If she had been herself, Bulma might have been ashamed. When she had been stripped down to nearly nothing, Lady Briefs emerged from the closet holding a simple (by her standards, anyway), lacy white gown.  
  
  
  
"This should do," she said, then picked up the corresponding corset and grinned. The maid took the garments and started to dress Bulma, careful of her injuries. It made for slow progress-- too slow for Lady Briefs. "Never mind the bruises-- I am looking for efficiency here. And make that corset tight-- our queen must be able to appear as slim as possible."  
  
"Yes, m'lady."  
  
Bulma had to bite her lip to keep from crying out as the maid began to lace the corset over her sore torso. Her blue eyes lifted to the ceiling as she prayed for the strength not to faint. Then the real pain began. As was customary, the maid tightened the contraption with a series of bone-crushing jerks. The pain was enough to cause the room to spin before Bulma's eyes, and to weaken her knees. Bulma could not stop herself from groaning this time. At this sound of pain, Lady Briefs looked smug.  
  
"Now you are paying for your crimes. And believe me, corsets are the least of it. Soon, you'll be wishing that that was all you had to endure."  
  
For the first time since arriving, Bulma gathered up the last of her courage and spoke up to her mother. "I hope that they eat you alive, Mother."  
  
Lady Briefs raised a perfectly-shaped brow, her arms crossed over her chest. "From what I hear, I wouldn't put it past them. Animals-- thats what they all are."  
  
Bulma gritted her teeth in anger. "They are less animal than you are," she said in a whisper. Lady Briefs either did not hear or pretended not to.  
  
"Finish dressing her," she ordered the maid. "Then call me. The queen has business to attend to."  
  
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Exhaustion both physically and mentally from he and Turles' intense sparring session motivated Vejita to limp back to his chambers for a nap.  
  
Now usually, Vejita was not the napping kind. He generally considered it to be a waste of time that could be better spent on more important things, which these days consisted of planning for war, thinking about war, and conniving over a war. But now that he and Turles' plans were all laid out and in place, a nap didn't seem like such a bad idea, especially when he thought of who might be awaiting him in dreamland.  
  
Vejita had to crack a tight smile at this. It would be hard for anyone to believe that the cold, arrogant Prince Vejita was actually capable of missing someone, but it was true. With every moment that passed, his rock heart hardened a little more. Thoughts of her plagued him every waking moment, and he hadn't even been apart from her for more than a day and a half. If he hadn't been so hell-bent on exacting his revenge and ripped her from her husband's grasp, he would have berated himself for thinking such 'weak' thoughts. Before meeting Bulma, thoughts to him were the things that weakened a man's resolve, prevented him from dedicating himself completely to his cause. He hadn't had any use for them before. But now...  
  
Bright, golden sunlight cast his room in a cheery glow, despite all of the unhappiness that was lurking in the palace as of late. Vejita hated it. He hated how it reminded him of how depressing it was that life had to keep going on, throwing obstacle after fucking obstacle into his way. But most of all, he hated it because of its beauty-- a beauty matched and surpassed by the very object of his grief.  
  
Queen Bulma.  
  
The prince, as if knowing and anticipating the woman's presence in his private dreamland, fell asleep almost as soon as he stretched out on one of his couches. As predicted, he met his match in his dream, but he would soon find that he would have much rather decided not to take a nap.  
  
He was walking in an enormous battlefield, which he somehow knew was on Earth, dressed in the traditional Saiyan battle armor that he and his forefathers had proudly always worn in war, and his hands and sword were coated in blood. Human blood. The smell encouraged him, driving him faster across the scene of carnage.  
  
Judging by the mangled corpses at his feet, which were equally human and Saiyan, the war had not been won yet. The deciding factor remained to be seen. But he could not help but smirk anyway-- after all, he was still alive and virtually unharmed!  
  
It wasn't until he reached the edges of the area that he glimpsed what was really happening. The bodies were piled all the way up to the palace steps, which was where Vejita stood now. And upon those steps was Bulma. Apparently, this was to be the sight of the last battle.  
  
Bulma was not alone. Standing on either side of her was Yamcha, sword in hand, and an older woman that Vejita guessed was her mother. And guarding them were the three human soldiers. Pathetic. But Vejita dared not move, because quicker than eyes could follow, Yamcha grinned and placed his weapon against Bulma's fragile throat.  
  
The woman looked worse than he had imagined. She wore the tattered, dirty remains of what had once been a tight blue corset and slip and sported bare, calloused feet. Her hair was in a tumbling disarray around her shoulders. Her body, her perfect, flawless body, was bruised and excessively frail. The rose-petal lip-- split and cracked. And her eyes! The normally clear blue things were dead, devoid of any signs of life, staring blindly ahead of her. Her scent that carried over to him was not of wildflowers, but rather of fear, pain, and rape. Rape... that was what accounted for her undergarments. And for the broken look of her. Vejita's blood boiled.  
  
  
  
"Its about time you showed up," Yamcha taunted, glancing up from his sword at Bulma's throat. "We were just about to discuss some important matters."  
  
"Such as?" Vejita didn't know why he had asked. He was just a bystander in this dream, apparently.  
  
"Bulma's life. You see, her punishment has not been sufficiently carried out yet." Yamcha paused for a moment. "And, come to think of it, neither has yours. Rape is a capital offense, you know."  
  
"You would be a good one to ask."  
  
The older woman-- Bulma's mother-- rolled cornflower blue eyes. "Enough talk, Yamcha. Just kill her. One iota of pressure, and all of your troubles will be gone."  
  
"Not yet!" Yamcha snapped. "I want to make it good. It has to be worthy of all this trouble."  
  
"I dare you to do it!"  
  
The small group turned to face the new speaker, who turned out to be Magdalene. Vejita noticed that she was escorted by Nappa and Radditz, who looked to be awaiting her command to do something. Oh yes, overthrow her. Why hadn't he done it yet?!  
  
"You would no more use that weapon on her than you would on yourself," the Saiyan queen continued. "Whatever power that your empire has is due to her. Without your fair wife, your subjects would rebel in an instant."  
  
'Without Bulma'... Somehow, the comment stuck out as significant in Vejita's mind.  
  
"Drop your weapon, Human King, or I shall have my guards take you down."  
  
Bulma's mother cackled. "Drop his weapon? Not likely." She held out her hands to Yamcha. "Give me the sword-- I will do what you lack the courage to."  
  
Yamcha hesitated, shooting glances down at his pretty wife, then back up at Bulma's mother. "I don't know--"  
  
He was cut short by the older woman snatching the sword from his grasp and wielding it in her own. Menacingly, she hovered the blade over Bulma's exposed throat. Vejita met the queen's eyes, and witnessed a single tear slide down her cheek.  
  
Seeing that he was about to prevent the execution with an attack, Magdalene stopped him. She was holding him back with her unwavering emerald eyes.  
  
"Do not attack her! Violence is not necessary! Its only a last resort, remember? I am the ruler of Vejitasei, therefore you must obey my orders!"  
  
Vejita tried to fight, to disobey and leap forward at Lady Briefs, but try as he might, he could not. Magdalene would not allow an attack.  
  
Right before the inevitable deadly strike, Bulma suddenly lifted her chin to look straight into his eyes. Her own blue orbs were deep pools of sadness and the wisdom that only those in their final moments possessed.  
  
In a clear, yet quiet voice, she spoke these final words: "A life without love is a life that is not worth living."  
  
And then, with a triumphant smile, Lady Briefs murdered her daughter.  
  
At that moment, Vejita awoke with a start, almost going Super Saiyan in his rage. What a dream. He hadn't ever felt so helpless in his life.  
  
Magdalene had been holding him back in his dream just as she was in real life, and look what had become of that! What if the dream hadn't been a dream at all, but rather a vision? If that were the case, then he could not afford to sit idle and follow his mother's pacifist ways.  
  
His mind full of plans, Vejita stood and stormed across the room, where he closed all the curtains, cutting off all of the cheery light. In a way, he was hiding himself from his conscience as well, because what he was about to do was by now means kind. He felt that he was closing himself off from Bulma and her ironic innocence. He did not want her to see what he was going to do next for fear that she would only see the act, not the man or the emotion behind it. But if she did, could he really blame her?  
  
After all, overthrowing your own mother in wartime wasn't exactly what you would call an honorable act.  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
******   
  
(A/N): There ya go, a longer chapter! Will Vejita's horrible dream really come to play in real life? Will he successfully take Magdalene's thrown out from under her? I guess you'll have to wait and see... ^_~ The next chapter is completed, I just have to type it up and post it. I'm shooting for the end of the week, but you can never be too sure, because I have been sooooo busy lately. Keep an eye out for it.  
  
And yet another thanks to everyone who reviewed and gave me suggested readings. I especially enjoyed Camaro's "Dark Angel", which I've been (miraculously) missing for the past what, two years? Haha! Well, if you haven't read it (in other words, if you're sheltered like me) then please go do so. She's a great writer.  
  
So, please remember to review, and see ya in the next chapter...  
  
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	26. Part Four: 26

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
  
  
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________________________~*Part Four*~: War  
  
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The Saiyan council assembled quickly and quietly in the throne room, each person feeling the tension building up in the atmosphere due to the war, and perhaps they also felt that this gathering would not be like the rest. They were right in thinking that.  
  
Vejita could not have selected a better occasion to make his move if he had tried. Because not only was the entire council present, but today the elite warriors and a few of the nobles had been permitted to attend. And the more witnesses, the better. Indiscretely, he looked up and across the table at Turles, who gave the slightest nod of his head to acknowledge that he, too, had noted the fabulous turnout. Thankfully, all traces of his earlier qualms had been masked behind a cool, normal facade. All was falling into place.  
  
Turles barely heard Magdalene innocently welcome everyone in her warm, strong voice and assure them that all of their concerns would be attended to later on. Exactly like a ruler should. As she continued her smooth delivery, Turles wondered if installing Vejita to the throne was such a good idea. After all, he highly doubted that Vejita would make endearing speeches and 'attened to' his people's 'concerns'. Hell, the people would be lucky if Vejita didn't make them all slaves to his cause. On second thought, the man corrected, perhaps he was being too harsh. Vejita couldn't be even half so bad as his father was. Could he? As it turned out, he would have no opprotunity to take that into consideration.  
  
"Our armies are strong, our morale high, and our plans underway," Bardock was explaining. In her seat, Magdalene appeared genuinely interested in what her adviser was saying. Would Vejita even give the educated helpers two minutes of his day? "So far as I can see, we are nearly ready for an attack."  
  
"An attack?" one lord asked doubtfully. "Will King Yamcha not attack first? Did he not want to come to initiate a war in the first place?"  
  
Nappa scowled at the man's statement. "The human is too much of a coward to come here. He will lay in wait until we come to him. He wants the home advantage."  
  
"Not that it will make much of a difference," Turles put in. He felt sick and wired up, but in order to appear normal, he had to comment on something. "Our ships are both fast and stealthy. The only advantage they have are their weapons-- their guns. To a typical Saiyan, bullets are nothing. But when we are injured, or unaware, or if they bring out better technology by some chance... we cannot block that."  
  
"Then we will go after their weapon storage areas first," Radditz suggested. "Without technology, humans are weak. All they have are their swords and puny fists."  
  
"We cannot just go on a rampage and slaughter everyone," Magdalene reminded them. "We have Queen Bulma to consider, as well as her followers. Some humans may choose to surrender or fight on our side."  
  
Radditz could not help but laugh. "There's no way in hell that those cowards would think of that!"  
  
Bardock glared at his son. "You dare to challenge your queen's wisdom, Radditz?"  
  
Magdalene looked at Radditz frostily. "I have had premonitions of such an occurence in a dream. I would not have wasted my breath if it were a completely ludicrous idea."  
  
Turles hoped that her premonitions would prove to be true. He was a war-loving Saiyan, true, but anyone could see that this could become unnecessarily messy, especially with Vejita in control of the armies. For once, he really dreaded the prospect of going into battle.  
  
Kakkarott spoke up now for the first time. "I don't like this. I have this... bad feeling. We should try to avoid fighting as much as possible. Yamcha is too desperate-- he could hurt Bulma at any moment."  
  
And this, of course, got Magdalene going. As she began to rally for peace along with Kakkarott and Bardock, Turles noticed the almost evil glint that had emerged in Vejita's eyes. Here was his opprotunity. Not stupid enough to defy the volatile prince, Turles turned to meet the eyes of the elite warriors he had bargained with (they were all personal acquaintances who wisely wished to please Vejita's right-hand man) to alert them of the oncoming storm. They looked eager and ready for their cue.  
  
"I can put an order in for weapons of our own," Bardock was suggesting, trying to compromise. "We could--"  
  
Magdalene was stubborn and indignant. "No, Bardock. What this empire needs is peace and order!"  
  
Then it was time. Suddenly, Vejita smirked satanically and got to his feet. A collective tremor went up the onlookers' spines at the intimidating man. "What this damned empire needs is a new ruler! Someone who can execute a war right, and with some common sense." Before anyone could react, Turles' men got their signal and moved to surround the unsuspecting Magdalene. For their part, the Saiyan council could do nothing but stand by and watch. "I am sick of hearing you people talk about all this 'peace and love for everyone' shit! A war cannot be fought and won that way. Every Saiyan knows that."  
  
Bardock looked absolutely furious, though in his heart he had known all along. "Oh? And how would you fight it? With arrognace and malice?"  
  
Magdalene glared at the warriors who trapped her, seeming to get over her initial shock. "Really, Vejita, what is the meaning of this?" she demanded.  
  
"I am overthrowing you and assuming the throne until I have King Yamcha's head on a silver fucking platter!" Vejita announced to the crowd of people and Magdalene, not one to mince words. "In order to get this done right, its necessary. You are far too soft to do it. If I allowed you, Bardock, and Kakkarott to continue like this, then soon we'd be having tea parties with the human army!"  
  
Even the more bloodthirsty men, such as Nappa, Radditz, and the elite warriors could not bring themselves to feel good about this new development. Prince Vejita was a violent, impulsive man-- it was more than likely that he would prove to be a merciless king. But all that Magdalene could think of was how much her son was reminding her of his father, and that alone took away her will to fight. That and the most powerful of the elites poised around her. The emerald eyes averted to the floor, though her chin remained up.  
  
Vejita, seeing this act of grudging submission, looked gloriously triumphant. "Do you back down as Queen and ruler of Vejitasei?"  
  
Magdalene could not believe that this was happening. Bardock had been right, and now she had no choice. She could only hope that the thought of the fair Bulma would keep Vejita from acting overly reckless. "I step down from my position as ruler," she said monotonously. "But mark my words, no good shall come from violence. For once, the Saiyan empire is wrong. This war will not be so easily won."  
  
"Duely noted," Vejita dismissed carelessly. Then, seeing that his takeover had been successful, he moved slowly to the platform and assumed the larger, grander throne, looking like the very essence of arrogance. It was as if the devil himself had come into the room. In a way, Turles secretly thought, he had. "Now, we have war plans to attend to."  
  
The people gulped and nodded, never meeting their new king's eyes for fear of being tortured or even killed for their insolence. Magdalene had gone ghostly pale, though she could never be mistaken for a cowardly woman.  
  
The new king awaited any ideas from the council, seated proudly on the dark throne. "Any suggestions?"  
  
And so the tumultous reign of Vejita began.  
  
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Yamcha and Lady Briefs came to get Bulma almost a full hour after dropping her off. The human queen had almost forgotten just how long and arduous the process of dressing was here on Earth. And all of that for a 'simple' ensemble!  
  
Bulma wore an almost unbearably tight corset (the effect on her bruised body was excrutiating), a shift to give her skirts a fuller appearance, a ridiculously ornate white gown, and what felt like ten pounds of gaudy diamond jewelry. Apparently Yamcha had missed seeing her 'properly dressed', because he smiled as he looked her over. Bulma felt her skin crawl wherever his gaze touched it, almost as if he were actually touching it himself. Her mother nodded as well, though probably because of the thick layer of makeup that disguised her daughter's sorrowful face.  
  
"You look good, though I'm not sure that white is the best color to appoint troops in," Yamcha commented, speaking more to Bulma's mother than to Bulma herself. "And she really should be wearing a crown."  
  
Lady Briefs gestured to the maid, who rushed off to fetch a crown, then frowned at Yamcha. "No. White is the only color that will do. It enhances her natural beauty, makes her look delicate. Prince Vejita has made her a victim, remember?"  
  
"They why the low-cut gown?"  
  
"Because." Lady Briefs looked impatient. "She cannot look too innocent-- she enjoyed romping with the ape, remember? You are both to look like victims here. Then the soldiers have a choice for whom they fight for. No chance of a rebellion that way."  
  
"You always were a clever woman, my lady," Yamcha complimented with a smile.  
  
Lady Briefs flashed him a conniving smile of her own. Bulma knew that she was savoring how much influence she had over royal affairs. Shallow, yet predictable, of her. "So I hear."   
  
The maid then reappeared and placed a simple silver-and-diamond set crown on Bulma's head. The heavy ornament made Bulma feel like a fool, but her outward expression betrayed nothing.  
  
Then Yamcha took Bulma's arm and linked it with his own. His clammy, weak grip made Bulma sick, but once again, no emotion registered on her ethearal face. Lady Briefs did not accompany them, just watched victoriously as her daughter was led away, her blue eyes twinkling. Bulma hated her with every fiber of her being. How could a mother stand there and watch her daughter being killed from the inside out, all the while doing nothing but smile to herself?  
  
"You're gonna love this part of the war," Yamcha said to Bulma as they left the chambers. "I've got nearly all of the people in the city lined up, waiting to learn their fate. Its a matter of life or death, really. I only expect the trained soldiers to live."  
  
So, he planned to use his innocent, inexperienced citizens as doomed pawns. Bulma knew that they could never even begin to think of how to defend themselves against the ruthless Saiyan army, and that they would probably all be slaughtered. She was hardly surprised, though. She was beginning to understand that people that Yamcha had no limits when it came to violence. An overwhelming pang of hopelessness overcame her then, and if it hadn't been for Yamcha's almost dragging her through the halls, she would have sank to her knees from the weight of it.  
  
Seeing her emotionless face suddenly change as she was almost given to sobs, Yamcha rolled his eyes. "Get over it! There's no hope for you now. If you accept your fate, things will go much easier."  
  
Accept her fate? No, that was the one thing that Bulma's strained heart could not do. Stubbornly, a small part of her still clung to the hope that Vejita would come and save her. She would never accept her fate-- not until she saw Vejita defeated with her own two eyes. She prayed to Kami that she would never live to see that day.  
  
Nobles they passed stopped to stare at the royal couple. Though she was dressed perfectly, there was no mistaking the changes that their queen had undergone. The haunted look in her usually radiant azure eyes was what really threw them though. The queen had never been a smiling, joyful woman, but she had certainly never looked so pathetic before. At least not in public.  
  
Bulma ignored their stares and instead concentrated on keeping herself emotionless. As a final attempt of defiance, she refused to give Yamcha the satisfaction of seeing her mostly negative reactions. Don't think of him, she willed herself. Don't think of Vejita, or you'll be reduced to tears again.  
  
All of her resolve dissipated, however, when they exited the palace and Bulma was treated with a sickening view of the city streets, which were filled with soldiers and citizens alike, the latter being lined up under the wary eyes of the trained men. Perhaps this wouldn't have disturbed Bulma so much if it hadn't been for the young-- oh, so young -- boys among the scrawny human men. The moment that the monarchs emerged, all eyes snapped to attention. Yamcha had had them beaten into submission, most likely. Despite herself, Bulma's wide eyes filled themselves with tears. Blessed were the planets that never saw war.  
  
"Good evening!" Yamcha shouted to them, holding up a hand in greeting. He seemed to be revelling in the attention, though most eyes strayed over to his stunning wife in the pure white dress. "You have all been informed of why it is that you have been gathered here, so I'll keep this short. Its not only your duty, but your privelege to die for your empire. Such is the dream of every honorable warrior." How Yamcha knew this, Bulma could not fathom. "Some of you may complain that you have no reason to fight. Well, all of you, listen to this. While we were striving for peace with the barbarian Saiyans, Prince Vejita was violating your queen-- raping and abusing her mercilessly. For that, he must pay!" Yamcha grinned as a roar went over the crowd, while Bulma nearly quivered with anger at his twisted half-truths. "But, unfortunately, there are two sides to every story. You see, unbeknowest to me, her faithful husband, Queen Bulma was beginning to enjoy Vejita's ministrations. Neither party is innocent in this." Yamcha's voice was drowned out by the dismayed fact that after a victim is tortured for a certain period of time, they begin to develop a sick bond with their oppresser, whether they're good people or not."  
  
"They deserve to know the truth," Bulma spoke quietly, catching Yamcha off guard. "Tell them. I don't care what they think!"  
  
Yamcha rolled his eyes, then turned back to the crowd. "The Saiyans are coming to take your queen and our planet for themselves!" he continued, as if Bulma hadn't even spoken. "In order to hold our own, we must use every able man and boy to fight. No exceptions."  
  
Bulma's tears finally began to fall at the sight of fathers taking the small hands of their innocent young sons into their own, perhaps for the last time. Would they see each other again? was the question on all their faces.  
  
"Now you see what you have caused," Yamcha hissed into her ear. "All of these poor fools will die because of you."  
  
  
  
No! Bulma wanted to shout. They are going to die because of you and your ridiculous need for war! But she dared not speak her mind, because she needed to at least look strong for her people.  
  
"How can you sleep at night knowing that you are sending them all to their deaths?" Bulma whispered thorugh trembling lips. "All of those inexperienced, unprepared people..."  
  
Yamcha ran a finger down one of Bulma's arms. "Easily, so long as I am beside you."  
  
"They are ready for your inspection, sir," a soldier informed Yamcha as he moved his finger away from Bulma. "Keep a close eye on them-- they may turn on ya."  
  
"Thats what I have you clowns for!" Yamcha snapped, starting into the street with Bulma close beside him. "See to it that we are protected."  
  
Four guards were appointed to them, and then Yamcha stepped down into the city, strolling along the lines of men and boys, scared and pathetic-looking. The human king eliminated people here and there-- the elderly, the diseased, and the overly scrawny mostly. But the children-- he kept in line. Every child they passed was like a stab to Bulma's heart.  
  
"You think that they are to young," Yamcha observed, stopping before a pale, green-eyed child that could not have been more than nine years of age. "But I think that you'll find them to be quite adequate for the job."  
  
Oblivious to the dangers around him, the child stared at Bulma with wide, amazed eyes. "Are you an angel?" When the white form began to choke on sobs, the little face became concerned. "Why are you crying? Mama told me that angels only cry when something dies. Is someone gonna die?"  
  
Though she was no angel, the little boy was right. Something had died in Bulma. The will to fight. At last, her final defensive walls shattered, and the queen was reduced to hysterical, wracking sobs that hurt within the confines of her corset, which only made her more winded and gasping for air. Yamcha scowled, clearly not expecting this, and motioned for a guard to support her.  
  
"Don't let her go," he ordered coldly. "Well still have more to see."  
  
One by one, Yamcha took her around to each of the soldier-children, and each one stared at Bulma with an identical question in his eyes. Why were they here, standing amongst the men that hadn't even finished raising them yet? But it wasn't just them that asked the question-- their older male comrades (once they got over their staring at Bulma) were old enough to understand, and seemed torn between blaming Yamcha or herself. That ripped Bulma apart inside.  
  
Soon, she wasn't even seeing what was ahead of her, though her slanted blue eyes were wide open. It was like she was suspended somewhere between here and dreamland, seeing only that which caught her fickle attention. She felt safer there, in her soft world of hallucinations laced with reality. Even as her body followed Yamcha around, stumbling over her long skirts here and there, Bulma did not come out of her shell.  
  
Honestly, she didn't know if she ever would.  
  
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The woman roamed inconspicuously through the back alleys of the city, unnoticed by the buffoon guards that were supposed to be watching over the citizen women. It hardly mattered-- she was just going to a place where she could think in peace (well, as much as could be found in wartime) and quiet, not trying to flee out into the countryside, as many had unsuccessfully attempted to do. Besides, she knew exactly how these men thought-- there had been a time in her life when she had lived amongst them and their upper-class families. But that was the past now, everyone's past. All that mattered now was the war.  
  
Damn, she mused as she sidled along through a particularly narrow alley. This was going to be the biggest massacre in Earth's history, and with no doubts about it! War with a rival planet was one thing, but with the Saiyans? That was madness of the kind that only idiots like Yamcha could produce. But then again, what about the alleged relationship between Bulma and Prince Vejita? Yamcha was a bastard, but certainly not that creative. Never in a million years would he have been able to come up with such a perfect excuse for war on his own.  
  
Bulma's broken, hopeless appearance irked her also. If Yamcha had simply pulled a lie out of his ass, then why the lovesick mood? The woman had only seen the queen all moony like that once, and that had been almost a lifetime ago. Had Bulma really taken up with the most feared, violent-tempered man in the universe-- a Saiyan Prince?  
  
At last, she arrived at the outskirts of the city, which were completely empty. All of the people, even the backcountry farmers and men from around the globe had been summoned to the major cities of Earth, preparing for battle. The woman shuddered at the fact that almost all of them would either be slaughtered or seriously wounded, even the women and children. The Saiyans took no prisoners, especially now that rumors were circulating about Prince Vejita perhaps ascending the throne.  
  
  
  
And perhaps the most pressing question of all was how the hell mere bullets could defeat the Saiyans and their superhuman strength. When caught off guard, or when he was not surrounded by his ki, a Saiyan could be shot and killed just like a human, though their reflexes were superb. But when they were in war-mode, how could a gun or a sword kill them? True, eventually their energy wouldbe sapped and ki would not longer be an option, but how many humans could a Saiyan slaughter in that time? Too many, the woman thought as she lit up one of her last cigarettes. Yamcha had to be out of his fucking mind.  
  
"Lady Maylene? Is that you?"  
  
The woman started and dropped her cigarette at the sudden question, asked by a familar-looking man who had come up behind her. Scowling, she looked the guy up and down, trying to spark her memory. Tanned skin, boyish smile, concerned, compassionate eyes... "Who wants to know?" she snapped. "And it isn't 'Lady' Maylene anymore, unfortunately. That was my last cigarette that you just ruined, by the way."  
  
The man, dressed in the garb of a citizen turned soldier and wielding a small, unimpressive dagger, faked a smile. "Oh. I guess the tanned skin and long hair changed my appearance more than I had thought." True, his shaggy hair and rough skin were unlike any of the people she had associated with in court.  
  
Maylene raised a thin brow. "Are you gonna tell me or not, Rambo?"  
  
He laughed, and once again Maylene's mind screamed at her to remember. "I am the banished fool formerly known as Lord Byron." He shook his head. "You haven't changed-- though now you can smoke in public."  
  
Had times been normal, Maylene might have been pleasantly surprised, but amongst this cycle of chaos, it was just another small turn of events. "Where have you been?" she asked, then corrected herself. "Or more like, where did Yamcha ship you off to?"  
  
Byron averted his eyes. For a minute, Maylene could see what Bulma had liked in this boyish man, but knew that their heart-wrenching separation might have been for the better. With all of Bulma's coveted beauty, she needed a real man-- a stronger man-- to take care of her. But nonetheless, their young love had been sincere. "To hell and back again. He sent me into slavery halfway across the world, as far from Lady Bulma-- well, Queen Bulma now-- as possible."  
  
Slavery? Maylene felt lucky that all the punishment she had received was a loss of title and luxurious belongings. But then again, she hadn't been the one standing between Yamcha and the ultimate prize-- Bulma. "You've heard the story then, about the war?"  
  
"Yes, I have." Byron looked forlorn. "I heard that Bulma had an affair with the Saiyan Prince and thats what ultimately pushed Yamcha over the edge."  
  
"So they say. Are you all right?"  
  
  
  
"As good as can be expected." Byron stared off towards the palace, that sad look still on his face. "I saw Bulma when she got off the ship, and then later when she and Yamcha were inspecting us. She looked right at me, Maylene, without even the smallest sign of recognition."  
  
"Her eyes aren't looking into our world anymore," the woman replied with a little frown of her own. "She's so far gone. I doubt that she's seen much of anything today."  
  
"She looked terrible-- like the walking dead," Byron commented softly. "But she's only gotten more beautiful as time went by. Its not surprise to me that the Saiyan Prince and Yamcha would go to war over her."  
  
Maylene was interested now. "You think thats what started it? Jealousy?"  
  
"I know thats it," was the reply. "I can put two and two together well enough. Remember, I was in love with her, too."  
  
"Was?"  
  
"Was. Is. I don't know. Somehow, ever since we last parted, I've known that it wasn't meant to be. But even though we can't be together... I'll always want her-- dream about her at night."  
  
  
  
"You know, there was a time when I would have given anything to be half as attractive as Bulma." Bulma chuckled bitterly at the irony of it all. "But now... I'm content with being the Plain Jane."  
  
Byron dared to look the least bit hopeful. "I don't know, Maylene. With great beauty comes influence and power. And if the Saiyan Prince is charmed enough to go to war for her..."  
  
Maylene slowly started to catch on. "Whose side are you on, exactly?"  
  
"Bulma's."  
  
"The Saiyans will never fight beside humans, rebelling ones or no, dolt! Prince Vejita would tear you apart before you even told him your plans, as soon as he found out that you and Bulma have history together."  
  
Byron glanced meaningfully at the overwhelmed city, bursting with child soldiers and working women. "I have nothing left to lose. Do you?"  
  
Maylene glared at the idiot man before her. How dare he dream? How dare he fill her stone heart with false hope? There was no way to describe it-- he was just a dumb, lovesick man with dusty memories and a testosterone overload. Disgustedly, Maylene backed away from him, rolling her eyes.  
  
"Dare to dream, huh?" she mocked sarcastically. "Come back to the real world, Byron-- we need all the help we can get."  
  
  
  
And then she left him, forcing all of his impossible ideas out of her head.  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
******   
  
(A/N): Another long chapter, and a quick update. I think that that's pretty much gonna be how things are going to turn out from now on. Anyway, to the reviewer who guessed that 'the woman' was Maylene, congrats on a clever mind! I can't remember your name (it was a review from a little ways back), but you know who you are. And special thanks to Da Bomb3, who never fails to review! Love ya, and good luck on the fic!  
  
Some people have mentioned that they haven't the slightest clue as to how to say some of these wretched names, so here's a guide for you:  
  
Maylene-- May - leen  
  
Magdalene-- Mag - duh - leen  
  
Byron-- Bye - run  
  
And one last thing-- as always, I am looking for new material to read, preferably fics about Bulma or Vejita, or even better-- both! ^_~ All suggestions will be appreciated, thanks!   
  
Another update in a few days, maybe... Sunday or Monday?? Ciao for now...  
  
So, Please remember to review, and see ya in the next chapter...  
  
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	27. Part Four: 27

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
  
  
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________________________~*Part Four*~: War  
  
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"Turles!"  
  
The newly-promoted soldier kept on his mission for the new king, which was to find the head of Vejitasei's small science council so that detailed maps of Earth could be located, despite his pursuer. Ever since the takeover, Vejita had had everyone on the go, making battle arrangements. One good thing about him was that he wasted no time, even if he didn't always use the best of logic.  
  
"Damn you, boy, turn around!"  
  
Turles rolled his eyes at the reference of him as 'boy', never breaking strides. He couldn't deal with Bardock's guilt-trips now. The man was pathetic-- Vejita hadn't been on the throne for two hours before he started complaining about how bad of a job he was doing. Turles knew that it was Bardock's history and friendship to Vejita's mother that kept him alive now, and that only.  
  
"I won't ask again!" Bardock snarled urgently from a few paces behind him. "You are my son, fool! You will respect my word!"  
  
Turles couldn't take it anymore. "Dammit, Bardock, will you ever quit?! Vejita won't step down until this war is over! There's no point in fighting it and moving out of his favor!"  
  
Bardock looked as pathetic as he sounded. It was as if the world was ending to him or something. "I know that. I just want to give you a word of caution from Magdalene-- don't cross him, least of all now. He will have you 'dealt with', if you know what I mean. He's lost control of himself, no matter how cool he may seem." The man placed a hand on Turles' shoulder. "Whether you were involved in this or not, I would hate for any of you boys to get hurt."  
  
"I don't need you and Magdalene's warnings," was the curt reply. "I know Vejita perhaps better than all of you, remember?" He then checked to be sure that they were alone, and lowered his voice. "Besides, all that he wants is to retrieve Bulma and for Yamcha to be killed. Its not like he wants universal domination."  
  
"Ah, Bulma," Bardock muttered. "Kami help her. I can only imagine what will happen when she and especially Yamcha find out."  
  
Turles had thought of this already. He knew what Yamcha would do-- go ballistic. And Bulma... he didn't know her well enough to say, but she would surely take the brunt of the punishment from her husband. So he did not speak of this to Bardock. "Where is Magdalene now?"  
  
"In her chambers. She just... sits there, staring at nothing. Thinking of Vejita's father, no doubt. Aren't we all?"  
  
"No," Turles protested loyally. After all, Vejita was as close to a best friend as the Saiyan warrior could think of. "Vejita has more honor, better reasoning, less greed..."  
  
"All of which are out the window during war."  
  
"You are being treacherous, old man." Turles began to walk away, glaring as if Bardock was just another fool, and not his father. "Remember, Vejita has eyes and ears everywhere."  
  
And it was true. At that very moment, Vejita was being informed that Turles and Bardock had been conversing in hushed tones by one of the palace guards. Settling back in his throne, Vejita did not worry because Turles would return soon, adn could be dealt with then. For now, he had to think of how he could announce his ascension to the people of Vejitasei without bluntly saying that he had heartlessly overthrown the wise and popular Queen Magdalene. He grudgingly found himself regretting that Bardock resented him-- he could have used a diplomat right now.  
  
Why had he taken control of the empire, really? Not for world domination, as most people would presume. And he didn't want to abuse the power he now held for his own selfish purposes-- with the exception of Bulma, that is-- but that wasn't really all for him, he reasoned. He would be saving her life, actually, and he knew that she would make an excellent queen for his people, once all the dust settled. Vejita hadn't taken the throne so that he could boss everyone around, either (this was bound to be a popular theory, however), though for the moment that was what the people needed. He had always had more than enough power to satisfy his need for control.  
  
No, none of those reasons prevailed here. The real reason, Vejita decided as he shot a staring guard a venomous look, was because of Magdalene's passive way of ruling. All his life, he had sat around and watched his mother console and spoil any passing citizen-- or ambassador, for that matter-- therefore giving her people and foreigners alike the impresison that they could get away with murder, literally and figuratively. Eventually, the fear that had been associated with the Saiyan empire had declined, and Vejita would be damned if he let their proud heritage be thrown away so that Magdalene could spare a few people's feelings. And, he admitted to himself, his feelings had been magnified when Bulma had become involved in this.   
  
If it had been any other woman, Vejita would have had the planet purged already, without so much as a remorseful second thought. But no, it had to have been her, the lovely Bulma. She was so perfect-- in looks, in her mannerisms, in her personality. She could easily charm an entire population into doing whatever her little heart pleased, and that was real power in Vejita's eyes. She was the only woman that Vejita had ever deemed worthy of more than five minutes of his time, and for good reasons. After all, it was only fitting that the most powerful man got the most beguiling woman! Vejita would accept no other, not now. The woman had gotten under his skin-- ever since her first day on his planet, when she had hummed his song, changing it into something miraculous and somehow entirely different, something that made her impossible to resist, marriage to his enemy or no.  
  
Thinking of her made his mind dwell on her whereabouts-- on Earth, unprotected from her sick tyrant of a husband, utterly defenseless. Perhaps she was being beat up, or even raped, or-- dare he think it?-- dead at the hands of Yamcha. She was probably giving up hope of rescue about now, giving in to Yamcha's every whim... Vejita cut off that chain of thought immediately. It was thoughts like that that almost made him lose control. Or had he already? It was getting harder and harder to tell.  
  
Thankfully, Vejita wasn't given the opprotunity to lose control for much longer. With a slam of the heavy throne room doors, Turles and a twitching, nerdy-looking man entered and bowed to their new king. Vejita received them with a somewhat annoyed expression-- the other man was getting on his nerves already.  
  
"You had words with Bardock?" he snapped in Turles' direction, not one to put things off. "Why all the secrecy?"  
  
The man looked surprised, though he tried his best to hide it. "He's my father, Vejita-sama! Yes, we spoke, but it was nothing. He warned me not to cross you, and said that that message was straight from Magdalene."  
  
Vejita recognized a truthful statement and switched his attentions to the stranger, who trembled in the presence of his intimidating king. "And who the hell are you?"  
  
"I- I'm the head of the s- science council, Y- Your Majesty," he stammered almost incoherently.  
  
"Speak clearly, you imbecile," Vejita ordered, rolling his dark eyes. "A man of logic should be smart enough to know that I couldn't possibly kill someone that I needed information from!"  
  
"Oh-- yes! Information!" the scientist said, as if just remembering his purpose there. From his pockets, he pulled out several large, rolled-up maps, which he held out to the king.  
  
"What the fuck are you looking at me for?" Vejita spat. "Lay them out and demonstrate your knowledge." Reluctantly, he got up from the throne (oh, how natural he felt there, looking down on the trembling subjects!) and walked over to the center of the room, gesturing for the head scientist to place his maps there.  
  
"Well, first we have a basic topographical map of Earth, which shows us where the mountains, valleys, and such are located on the planet," the man began, sounding much more at ease speaking about things that he knew than he had when answering direct questions. Turles and Vejita leaned in to examine the large map as the man spoke. "As you can see, they have situated the majority of their large cities, including the capital where the palace is located, in valleys that are typically surrounded by small mountains. They'll make a great resource when you want to trap all the people in the valley, as you can see."  
  
"Wouldn't that work both ways?" Turles pointed out. "They could keep us out of the capital with those mountains acting as a barrier."  
  
Vejita shook his head at Turles' stupidity. "Look at the color of the mountains, fool! They are barely a step over hills. Getting over them is easy for us, but not so much for them, since they can't fly. They've trapped themselves within the cities, and if I know Yamcha, he has gathered most of the people there for quick training."  
  
The scientist nodded in agreement. "That seems to be the most likely action. As I was saying, if you surrounding the cities, you could easily trap the humans, and then overwhelm them with soldiers."  
  
Vejita smirked. "That should be easy enough to do. Our armies outnumber theirs easily."  
  
"And look-- there are several major rivers cutting through the mountains here and there around the capital," Turles observed. "That would be a good place to camp, if need be."  
  
"The rivers could also be used for contamination," the scientist suggested with a wicked smile. He seemed completely at ease now. "If you poisoned the river with any number of substances, then their water supply will be utterly useless, therefore weakening their armies."  
  
"I like that." Vejita smirked. "Considering their weak immune systems, we probably wouldn't even have to fight them. They'll drop like flies once the poison enters their system. Do you know of such a chemical, scientist?"  
  
  
  
The man thought for a moment. "If I asked some of the other scientists, we could probably come up with something. It should be easy enough, since humans are so fragile."  
  
"Bulma would have to be warned somehow," Turles said to Vejita. "If she accidentally drank the water..."  
  
Vejita realized this for the first time. If he poisoned the water supply, which also went to the palace, then he could very likely kill Bulma as well, and that would defeat most of the purpose of war in the first place. Getting somebody to slip through the thin loopholes in Yamcha's tight security would prove to be difficult, however, and there was no guarantee that the message would even reach her... or that she was conscious enough to comprehend what it was relaying. "Fuck..." he muttered. "Poison is out of the question, at least for the water supply that goes to the palace. There is no sure way that word can be sent to her. Are there any rivers that don't go to the palace?"  
  
"One," the scientist replied after consulting his map. "But it goes along the outskirts of the city. There's no telling if anyone uses it for drinking or not."  
  
"Its worth the effort," Vejita decided. "Arrange for it. I don't want the concoction to be fatal, however." His features darkened, and Turles felt a cold chill go up and down his spine. "I want them to writhe in pain. Besides, my men will need some fun to keep their motivation up."  
  
The scientist gulped, then nodded. From his pocket he withdrew a notepad, which he scribbled notes on. "I shall have it arranged, Your Majesty, and I'll have instructions written up on the procedures for putting it into the river."  
  
"What's on the other map?" Turles asked once the man was finished writing.  
  
"The other map shows the main streets and alleyways that go through the capital city," he explained, laying out that map on top of the other one. "I apologize that we don't have a map of the castle, but even we have our limits. Blueprints could not be acquired, it seems. But the queen's location should be easy enough to determine-- she'll be heavily guarded."  
  
Vejita thought of his dream, where Bulma had been on the front steps of the dismal palace, and suppressed a shudder. "I wouldn't put too much faith in such assumptions. Yamcha will do what he thinks we won't be expecting. She might very well be kept in a very obvious location."  
  
"That sounds more like Yamcha to me," Turles agreed with serious eyes. "He'll be taunting us with her, no doubt."  
  
"More importantly," the scientist began cautiously, having heard of the protectiveness Vejita had for the pretty human, "He'll send out all of his armies before allowing you to face him and Queen Bulma. Which means that you most likely will never see her until-- if-- you've won the battle."  
  
Vejita's eyes flashed at the 'if' thrown in there, but otherwise did not comment. "The capital is child's play," he moved on. "Its the other major cities that may cause problems. No large city can be left unattended, or else we could be ambushed while trying to infiltrate the capital."  
  
"Certainly, Your Majesty." The scientist spread his hands nervously over the map, his sharp eyes scanning the color-coded cities for differences in population. "It looks to me like you will be able to post at least ten men at each city with populations of one thousand or more."  
  
"One thousand?" Turles repeated incredulously. "We have that much in two city blocks!"  
  
"The people of Earth do not like to live in the cities," the man explained. "The climate is such that they can spread out into the country, where they can own land and live their own private lives."  
  
"Yamcha will have every man and boy gathered at the cities," Vejita estimated, crossing his arms and surveying the map with calculating eyes. In his mind, he was already seeing his men invade the cities, burning and destroying everything in their path. "No one but the women and the young children will be left out in the backcountry. All that needs to be done to gain control over them is send a small group of soldiers to each major city, and the bulk of the armies to the capital, and the human population will be nicely contained."  
  
"How do you plan to uh-- exterminate them, Vejita-sama?" the head scientist asked. "The humans may be weak in body, but they make up for it in technology. They have guns, and explosives that could destroy an entire fleet of ships."  
  
"Bullets cannot penetrate a Saiyan ki," Vejita corrected him. "The only way that their guns can harm us to if some idiot has his guard down. And as for their explosives-- that is not unique to them anymore. I have already sent men to get state-of-the-art firepower of our own from neighboring planets."  
  
"We'll run out of energy at some point, Vejita." Turles looked skeptical of Vejita's cockiness. "A man cannot keep up his aura forever."  
  
Vejita didn't even hesitate in answering. "Think of how many humans can be killed in that long span of time, Turles. By the time your energy runs out, you'll have killed every one of the bastards within a four-mile radius." The king then stepped away from the table with the maps and motioned for them to leave. "Thats enough for now. Come back tomorrow and we'll discuss this further. I'll send someone for you."  
  
The head scientist bowed, shakily gathered up his maps, and scurried out of the room, leaving only Turles and Vejita near the table. The lesser man regarded his king with suspicious eyes.  
  
"You really think that its going to be that easy, don't you?"  
  
"You sound like you know better, Turles," Vejita snapped, not liking the demeaning tone in his friend's sullen voice. "If you know something that I do not, by all means, enlighten me."  
  
Turles shrugged. "Sure, it'll be easy to take control of the cities and that, but as far as retrieving Bulma goes... You and I both know that Yamcha won't make it that easy. He'll pull something shady-- like hold her at gunpoint or something. She won't come without a price, Vejita, and something tells me that it'll cost us many lives to pay it. And who knows what she'll be like when we get there? When she was being dragged away, I saw something change in her. She was giving up, at least a little." The man paused for a moment, and horrible images of the torture that Bulma would surely be put through circulated through both their minds. "How long do you think one human woman can last before she cracks under the pressure?"  
  
Vejita felt his fists clench with a will of their own, and his power level fluctuated with his raging emotions-- anger and fear, mostly. Anger at his helplessness, and fear at the possibility that Bulma could come back to him an empty shell, beyond recovery. "Get out of my sight, Turles, before I decide that its time for you to crack."  
  
"Yes, Your Majesty." Turles bowed slightly and began to exit the room. Before he left, however, he stopped and turned back to Vejita, who was as still as stone. "Just remember what I said-- for both you and Bulma's sake."  
  
Vejita waited until Turles had gone, then he turned on his heel and with a flash of golden light shattered one of the large picture windows. Anger and frustration consumed him, blurring all of his logic together into one incoherent heap.  
  
Control. He musn't ever lose control...  
  
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After checking over each and every unfortunate man and boy lined up in the city streets, Yamcha had finally relented and led Bulma back to the castle. She stumbled and nearly fell several times during their walk, so eventually he was forced to take her arm, but other than that, he avoided all contact with her. There would be plenty of contact later, and he wanted to wait until then, to make it special.  
  
He kept them up at a brisk pace, ignoring the greetings of the people they passed. He didn't care what some half-assed noble thought of him and his decision to wage war on the Saiyans-- he'd heard it all already, and he wasn't going to listen to anybody anymore. From here on out, Yamcha needed no assistance. He was handling this war himself. And, as it turned out, he wasn't the only one to have decided that. Just as he was coming through the doors of the throne room to check on his council's progress, he was ambushed by a dozen of the anxious human men, all gesturing and chattering frantically.  
  
"What's all this?!" he demanded shortly, pulling Bulma behind him so that the men could not get a good look at her. He hated it when others looked at her. There had been a time when he didn't mind so much, because from admiration came jealousy-- of him-- but now, he could never be sure if Bulma was looking back or not.   
  
"Its the Saiyans, Your Majesty!" one man spoke up, his facial expression bordering on panic. "They've crowned Prince Vejita as their new king-- or rather, he's overthrown his mother and taken the position!"  
  
Yamcha felt butterflies materialize in the pit of his stomach, and he began to look a little green around the edges. "Wh-- what did you say?"  
  
"Its not 'Prince' Vejita anymore," the man repeated gravely. "Its 'King'."  
  
Damn him! Yamcha thought, running a hand through his hair. Damn the Saiyan and his need for power! Winning a war against Magdalene wouldn't have been so difficult, but winning one against the likes of Vejita was entirely different. The man was ruthless-- he would slaughter the entire army and his own without a second thought, and then move on to him, and he had a feeling that his death would not be so quick. No! What was he thinking? Yamcha glared at the floor. Just because Vejita was in control now, didn't mean that the war was won yet.   
  
"Queen Bulma?" one of the men inquired gently. "Are you alright?"  
  
Yamcha inclined his head slightly to glance over at Bulma, who had gone pale as a ghost. Her pink lips trembled, and her blue eyes were wide as saucers. She was worried about what her infamously violent little prince would do with the might of the Saiyan empire in his hands, no doubt. If he hadn't fallen under her spell years ago, he would have now, just looking at her.   
  
  
  
Suddenly, something occured to him, something that he should have known all along. Vejita would prove to be a powerful and calculating ruler, yes, but he had one weakness-- a fatal weakness. Bulma. Yamcha's lips twisted into as much of a smile as he could muster as he thought of all the perverse ways he could use the woman to taunt the Saiyan King. This war had just gotten to be a lot more fun.  
  
"She's fine," Yamcha answered for her, still smiling that odd smile. "And there has been a change of plans. I've decided that my wife and I will attend the party for the soldiers tonight. Arrange for a tent for us to sit under, at once."  
  
After some men hurried to oblige, Yamcha relaxed a bit and watched Bulma out of the corner of his eyes. When he had decided to allow the armies one last night of good fun before the war really began, he hadn't even thought that he and Bulma would think to attend, but now... An dehumanizing, mean-spirited idea had begun to form in the dark recesses of his mind. It was time to show his discouraged soldiers just what they were fighting for.  
  
"It looks like we won't be turning in early after all, my sweet," he informed Bulma mischeviously, once again taking her arm in his own. "I hope that you still have some of those party dresses."  
  
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They all thought that she was locked up in her chambers like a good little queen, seething, but she was not. Sitting and wallowing in her anger would do nothing to remedy the situation, and Magdalene knew that from years of experience.  
  
It hadn't taken her long to reach the outskirts of the city, seeing as how her hooded cloak kept her identity safe from the people who kindly pointed out the shortcuts along the way. It was easy enough to get through the maze-like capital that way. Eventually thought, the city ended and she was heading along a scruffy, rarely used trail that led out into the red, barren desert and over to a place where no one would think to find her.  
  
The large gray marble looked as if it had taken the worst of the desert wind, and the sand had all but eroded away the engraved lettering on the monument. Magdalene traced shaky fingers over the words, her mouth moving in correspondence with them as she went.  
  
'King Vejita XIV. Proud in life, strong in death.'  
  
Magdalene clearly remembered the fool who had made up that laughable lie about her husband. Yes, he had been proud, but of all the wrong things. She supposed the engraver had been payed, though certainly not by her or Vejita. And strong in death? He had been murdered by his own battered wife, who had noted the unmistakable fear on his dark features.   
  
She no longer had nightmares of it-- in her view, Kami picked the time of King Vejita's death, and she had just been lucky enough to be there to be the means of his destruction. But that was not why she had come.  
  
She had come to her husband's grave in the lonely desert to seek answers. No, she did not expect her dead mate to come to life and tell her the planet's secrets, nor did she plan to stand and stare at the oversized block of stone all evening.   
  
You see, her people had been blessed with a gift. Some say that it originated because of the Saiyans' deep love of war, and some others said that it is the gift itself that caused the love of battle. Either way, it did not matter. Because sometimes, when the situation was right, a Saiyan could look upon a grave and get premonitions of what kind of knowledge the owner had possessed in life. Until now, she had dismissed the theory as merely that-- a theory. But she was desperate, and she needed it to work now.  
  
After all, who could guess what was going on in her son's head better than his own father?  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
******   
  
(A/N): Hey everyone! Hope y'all enjoyed this chapter and the fairly steady updates. I'm trying my best to stick to the routine of updating here, while juggling my studies and horse shows at the same time, so please bear with me and have some patience! With that in mind, I'll warn you now-- I'm going to a horse show that lasts from tomorrow (Thursday) to Sunday. That means that I can't update until Tuesday or Wednesday. Thats not too long, is it? Anyway, I apologize in advance.  
  
And oh yeah-- I WON I WON I WON I WON!!! Haha, there's a shameless plug for myself! I won first place in Vegeta Goddess's Fanfiction Competition for "Pitch Black"! Yay! I feel so... *sniff sniff*... loved! Thanks to Debido, who was a judge, for all the good (and bad) comments on the judge's form. If you're reading this Debido, I'd like to thank you for your e-mails! ^_^  
  
So, please remember to review, and see ya in the next chapter...  
  
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	28. Part Four: 28

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
  
  
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________________________~*Part Four*~: War  
  
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Darkness.  
  
At first, that was all that Magdalene could see from beneath her closed eyes. She had just begun to rethink the logic of this hasty plan when the blackness before her began to turn into something else. Flickers of an image teased her, then materialized into something more. A memory.  
  
She was in King Vejita's mind, looking out from his seat on the throne to the rest of the throne room, still much like it was today. Before her husband stood two guards who held a rather angry-looking Saiyan woman between them. Magdalene's heart accelerated at the sight-- for that woman was her, years ago, the first time that she had met face-to-face with the Saiyan King.  
  
Seeing herself from the king's perspective allowed Magdalene to finally realize the true status of their relationship. The girl before him was more stunning than traditionally pretty; you would remember her more for her striking features than for her delicate looks, and the king liked that. A man could get sick of looking at the same kind of woman for so many years. The truth was, he had loved her more because of the fact that she fascinated him than whatever feelings of lust or love he had felt. Had there really been any at all?  
  
Magdalene had clearly been the product of good breeding, with distinctive, dark features and the athletic body typical of a Saiyan. The exception to this was the color of her eyes-- an unusual emerald green. She could have been scorned or labeled an outcast for this trait, but somehow, it looked right. And besides, it was a rare person who could get past the scowling lips and stubborn chin to break the news to her anyway. There was no doubt in King Vejita's mind-- she was a fiery one, and would prove to be difficult to control. A challenge.  
  
"Is there a reason for you calling me here, Your Majesty, or are you just going to stare at me all afternoon?" the girl, barely twenty years to the king's twenty-six, snapped. And when the guards motioned for her silence, she spat on the floor near to them, her startling green eyes smoldering with a contained fury. "I will not be silent when someone is staring at me, you idiots! I despise people who stare at me!"  
  
The king was surprised in spite of himself. Never in his life had a woman-- any woman-- dared to speak in a sarcastic manner to him. Magdalene (the one playing visitor in her husband's mind) was not all that shocked to discover that the man liked it rough-- with his women, his wars, and his sparring. "You've got quite a mouth on you, girl. You'd best learn to keep it shut, or else it'll get you in trouble one of these days."  
  
A thin brow was raised, and the king could tell that she wanted to roll her eyes at him. At least she had enough sense to restrain herself in that. "It already has, Your Majesty. Is that why you've summoned me here? I don't think that I've offended anybody important recently." Magdalene inwardly was amused at how much her son exhibited her rebellious nature.  
  
"I have called you here so that I could meet the woman I have been hearing so much about," King Vejita replied humorlessly, his black eyes scanning over her wavy hair and impatient expression. "You turned down the general's marriage proposal recently."  
  
"And?"  
  
"Rumor has it that you cracked a dinner plate over his head in front of the entire court yesterday. I don't know about you, but I would classify that as 'offending someone important recently."  
  
Magdalene clearly remembered that all-important event from her youth. The general of the Saiyan army had been handsome enough, and certainly rich and powerful beyond every girl's dreams, but the man was the epitome of perverted. He had had the audacity to attempt to feel her up beneath the dinner table! The woman's famous temper had gotten the better of her, and so she had struck him with the nearest available object-- a heavy pewter dinner platter. Needless to say, the general had harbored one hell of a headache and quite a few stitches as a result of that night. Despite the hype that had surrounded the entire ordeal, Magdalene didn't regret doing it a bit.  
  
"The man had attempted to touch me in a very inappropriate manner, Vejita-sama." Magdalene, expecting a punishment, defiantly crossed her arms across the bodice of her simple gray wrap. "I thought it only fitting to let him know that his advances were not proper or appreciated."  
  
Instead of the angry reaction she had expected, King Vejita actually began to laugh. It was a rather saditious laugh, but filled with humor nonetheless. When the green eyes grew to an exaggerated proportion, it caused him to laugh even harder. Magdalene knew that this was the point in time in which King Vejita had decided that this girl struck his twisted fancy. Her heart filled with dread, even now.  
  
"Lady Magdalene, you interest me," he announced, his laughter cut off abruptly. King Vejita never did anything subtley-- even changing emotions. "I have arranged for you to meet me tomorrow at this time."  
  
The young Magdalene looked incredulous. "Arranged?! Did it ever occur to you, Your Highness, that I might be opposed to th--"  
  
Her protest was cut off by a severe motion of the king's gloved hand. "There will be no questions about it. I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
As the angry, shouting noblewoman was escorted-- or rather, dragged-- out of the throne room and away from the young king, Magdalene felt her husband abruptly change moods again. But this time it changed from humor to ambition.  
  
Soon after her younger self was forced from the room, a wiry-looking advisor came into the room, his arms full of legal papers. At his entrance, the king smirked and rubbed his hands together in a conspiring way. He had plans for a particular court lady and himself, plans that would change (and eventually end) his life.  
  
"Did you find the Lady Magdalene to your liking, sire?" the advisor asked.  
  
"The bitch is certainly not the norm," King Vejita mused. "But she's interesting enough to keep me busy for a while."  
  
The advisor nodded his approval. "I have all of the necessary documents here. All you have to do is sign on the line, and then collect Lady Magdalene's father's signature, and then its official."  
  
The king took the papers and offered pen from the man, then signed his name in a spidery print. "Its a damn good thing that the woman's father signs the marriage papers, or else I would be a single man."  
  
The two men's laughs erupted and filled the throne room with their shady malice. Magdalene, suddenly suffocated with the memory of the unhappy marriage that had been nearly forced on her, desperately wished that she could suddenly extract herself from her husband's mind. All that this memory showed her was the extent of her husband's ability to hide his true motives. And Kami knew that her son was also showing this 'talent'. But her husband was not finished yet.  
  
The darkness returned, then faded into yet another scene, a scene that was just as familiar to Magdalene now as it was then. The gravity rooms.  
  
Judging by the styles of the soldier's workout garb, the date was early in their reign, probably almost two years after their marriage. Her husband, clothed in all black, was surrounded by four of his training comrades and leaders of the Saiyan nobility. They were engaged in a heated battle, and by the looks of it, King Vejita was dominating.  
  
"Holy shit!" one of the men exclaimed as a red ki blast, directed by none other than the king himself, just barely missed his head. "That was a cheap shot, Vejita-sama!"  
  
The king disregarded the nobleman's remark and instead furrowed his brows and powered up even higher. The set of his dark facial features betrayed that he was consumed with anger. Magdalene could not tell what it was that he was upset over, because he was carefully masking and tucking away his emotions-- something common in their family, obviously. Both senior and present-day Vejita smothered their feelings until their tempers ran explosive. Magdalene was grateful that at least her son had inherited a tiny bit of her control.  
  
"What are you, some kind of pansy?" the king snapped, lashing out at the complainer with more force than before. "This is a sparring match, not a chess game!"  
  
The other men stood back from the two, black eyes wide, bracing themselves for the unnecessary beating that was sure to commence. The unfortunate target was slowly getting backed up towards a wall, and King Vejita showed no signs of slowing down.  
  
"What ails you, Your Majesty?" the victim pleaded in a hasty effort to save himself. "Perhaps it can be worked out in a more peaceful manner, hm?"  
  
"What ails me?" King Vejita smirked-- oh, how he resembled his son-- and rolled a fateful bit of ki between nimble fingers. "What ails me none of your concern."  
  
The gravity room was filled with blinding red light, and when their Saiyan eyes adjusted again, where there once had been man stood a smoldering pile of ashes. The stink of charred flesh caused the other nobles' eyes to water, but the king seemed unaffected. In fact, when he turned back around, he wore a genuine smile on his face. Magdalene was sickened now and had been then at his way of venting his frustrations.  
  
"I'm relieved to see that you're feeling better, Your Highness," one of the men said, wiping his damp brow. "I can definitely understand how that could help you to get rid of some of your tension. Frustration affects your fighting skills, you know."  
  
"What are you saying?" the king asked, narrowing his eyes. "That I fight like shit?"  
  
"N- no! Of course not! Weak emotions apply only to lower men like ourselves, Vejita-sama, never to you!"  
  
As the king advanced on the man, his fellow nobleman could not help but distress at the plight of his companions.  
  
"You stupid motherfucker!" he shouted, running a hand through his hair. "Why is it that every time you open your huge ass mouth, something bad always happens?!"  
  
Magdalene attempted to close her mind's eyes as her husband slaughtered the two men, but found that it was impossible. The best she could do was focus at a spot on the floor, and even then, the combined blood of the two unfortunate 'friends' of the king splattered into her view and marred her vision. Their screams ripped through her sensitive ears, and if she could have joined her distressed voice with theirs, she would have. He was torturing them for pleasure and release, she realized-- much as her son had done and would likely do now, to a lesser degree, or so she hoped.  
  
Thankfully, her husband took the burden of the men's screams off of her and moved her on another vision, this time in a setting unfamilar to her.  
  
On this foreign planet, green, seemingly endless plains stretched out before her, interuppted only by a few wiry, half-dead looking trees shaped by the winds. Beside one of these was what looked to be a village, filled with terrified, green-skinned creatures that Magdalene recognized as Nameks, the people who had inhabited a planet purged by her husband years ago. They had been a peaceful, intelligent people, but not advanced in defense at all.   
  
Surrounding the village were troops of Saiyan men, commanded by King Vejita himself, clad in the traditional black and crimson battle armor. Even the battle-ignorant Nameks recognized what those colors meant-- certain death. Now, however, the men appeared to be simply lounging around, watching the terror-stricken natives with little interest. King Vejita reclined in a chair at the head of the village, speaking boredly to one of his advisors.  
  
"They are a harmless people, Your Majesty," the advisor was saying to his king. "Perhaps they can be of some use to us. We could recruit them for labor in our factories. And also, they seem to possess great healing skills--"  
  
"Healing skills?" the king scoffed. "Injuries make a soldier stronger, so why the hell would we need healing skills? Besides, these fools bore me."  
  
"But we can't just--"  
  
"I can do whatever I please." With a heavy sign and a yawn of boredom, the king gestured to his men. "Kill them-- at least that's more entertaining than watching them run around all day."  
  
This time, Magdalene was lucky enough to be able to shield herself from all the fighting by focusing in on the clear Namekian sky. Absently, she noted that the color was almost as blue as Bulma's eyes. Bulma... Magdalene wondered whether the humans would keep her son Vejita busy enough so that he wouldn't pull a heartless stunt like this one. For their sake, she hoped that they had some pretty impressive technology.  
  
By the time the cries and moans of the dying Nameks faded from her ears, Magdalene was out of the hell that was her husband's memory and back standing in front of his grave in the lonely Vejitasei desert.   
  
The former queen couldn't decide which was worse-- the reality of the past, or the reality of this tumultuous present. Judging by these images relayed to her by her husband and the sight of the Saiyan armies slowing gathering at the capital, she was safely able to decide which was worse.  
  
Whether the planet was ruled by her son or his father, the circumstances were the same. If there was one thing that she had learned from visting in her husband's mind, it was that the two men were more alike than she had ever dared to imagine.  
  
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Maylene glanced around in disgust at the chaos going on around her. She had been groped by random partying soldiers countless times already this night, and she didn't know how much more she could stand. Frustration caused her to grip her cup of cheap beer until her knuckles went white, and several of the women standing around her shifted away warily.  
  
Earlier in her life, she had always been up for a good party, but even by her standards this was over the top. The scale of the celebration had gotten blown up to proportions that only Yamcha could manage. The men seemed fooled, but she was not. This wasn't a party for the benefit of the soldiers-- it was a party to bring Yamcha into their favor, therefore sweetening the doubtlessly disheartening war to come. Hell, for all these men knew, the Saiyans could be surrounding the dark city even now as they carried drunkenly on. But Maylene seemed to be the only one to recognize that fact, and so she sat against an abandoned building near to the entrance of the palace, bitter and alone.  
  
One of the other women that had been in Maylene's group stumbled over, clutching an overflowing cup of the cow-piss that they called beer in one hand. Oblivious to her companion's scorn, the girl plopped down on the ground next to her, sloshing some of the warm liquid onto Maylene's skirt in the process. She was a normally quiet girl, called Gabrielle, who had come from the outskirts of the city. Maylene had hated her from the start-- the naivete that this girl possessed was extremely annoying. Her parents had probably been a lot of country bumpkins, the former noblewoman scoffed.  
  
"Wow, whatuh party!" Gabrielle exclaimed, the words she spoke running together almost incoherently. "What are ya doin' here all by yur lonesome?"  
  
Maylene spoke through clenched teeth. "Avoiding the drunken fools-- like you, for example."  
  
The insult seemed to roll right off of Gabrielle's back, because she giggled and disregarded the saucy statement. "Tha's nice! Didya hear? Yumcha n' Bulmuh are gonna show up later. I... think..."  
  
At this, Maylene's interest in the situation increased-- but only just barely. "Where did you hear that?"  
  
"Straight from the mouth of the captun hisself!" the girl assured her, gurgling some of her beer inbetween statements. "And wut a nice mouth it turned out ta be..." Gabrielle's pink tongue actually protruded through her lips, as if she were kissing the captain even now.  
  
"Good Kami!" Maylene burst out in exasperation. "Get the hell away from me, you disgusting little shit!"  
  
Gabrielle got up, but only after spilling the rest of her drink onto Maylene's lap. Then she stumbled her way back into the crowds of testosterone-driven soldiers. Maylene watched her leave with a glowering scowl.   
  
If Gabrielle had heard the news from a captain, then it must have some truth behind it, Maylene reasoned. Besides, if the king and queen were going to make an appearance, they would have a tent or something set up so that they would be separated from the pressing crowds of people. Perhaps if Yamcha got distracted and drawn towards the drinks, she could quickly slip in and get a word with Bulma...  
  
Re-energized by the thought, Maylene pointedly ignored the rank beer stains on her already dirty dress and got to her feet. She was about to join in the crowd when she ran into somebody.  
  
"Dammit!" she growled, trying to push past the person. "Get out of my way!"  
  
"That's not a very nice way to treat an old friend."  
  
  
  
Maylene looked up and realized that her oppresser was indeed an old friend, if that's what you could call him-- the former Lord Byron. Remembering his foolish ideas of rebellion from earlier, she rolled her eyes. She had no desire to talk about his fanatic, jealous imaginings right now.  
  
"Some people have more important things to do than party and pine after lost lovers, you know," she snapped cruelly. She of all people knew that Byron wasn't quite as pathetic as he seemed, but in her agitation she ignored this fact. "I've got to get through this crowd, so leave me be."  
  
"I just want a word," Byron pleaded, putting an unwelcome hand on her shoulder.   
  
Maylene glared at the offending appendage. "You've already had plenty."  
  
"Listen-- I've heard that Yamcha is going to bring Bulma later--"  
  
"Two steps ahead of you," Maylene interuppted, taking the man off-guard and then brushing past him. Then, over her shoulder, "Have fun planning your cute little rebellion, 'Lord' Byron!"  
  
She knew that her words were unnecessarily harsh, but the knowledge didn't bother her. All her life she had been offending people without a second thought-- so why start regretting it now? As far as she was concerned, Byron could start his idiot rebellion all by himself. It would serve him right for indirectly causing Bulma so much pain. But that wasn't quite fair either, her conscience whispered. He's being no more protective than you are.  
  
"She was-- is-- my best friend," she muttered to herself under her breath, trying to justify her own protectiveness. Ah well, she thought. If all else failed, she could just claim that the beautiful queen had put her under her spell as well. But anyways, she had to think of an idea, and she couldn't allow her fickle conscience to get in the way.  
  
When she reached the area in front of the palace, she could see for herself that Gabrielle had not been lying. In a corner between two columns of the palace and another building, a tent with the royal colors was being erected, and sure enough the palace guard had stationed two men there. But so far, there was no sign of the royal couple. Fortunately, the guards had all the appearances of being intoxicated, so they wouldn't be too hard for Maylene to handle.  
  
Just then a commotion went over the crowd, and Maylene glanced up to see the two monarchs slowly descending down the palace steps, surrounded by four alert guards. Thanks to the burly men, she couldn't get a clear view of the royals. She swore under her breath and carefully blended herself in with the crowd as the king and queen walked right past to sit in their tent.  
  
"Make way for the king and queen!" the guards shouted at the few partygoers who were dumb enough not to move. "Make way!"  
  
Maylene was about to move forward, closer to the tent, when a hand gripped her elbow. She didn't even have to turn around to guess at who it was.  
  
"Have you seen her yet?" Byron asked anxiously. "How does she look?"  
  
"No, I haven't," Maylene replied shortly. "And she probably looks as good as she usually does."  
  
"I'm going to move forward to get a better look."  
  
Maylene seized his arm before he could move. Honestly, he must be dimmer than she had originally given him credit for! "Are you mad? What do you think will happen when Yamcha sees you?"  
  
Byron's face fell. "Damn, I had almost forgotten about that. Now that I think about it, you can't be seen either."  
  
With a smug grin, Maylene tugged up the hood of the cape she was wearing and gave him a little wave of her hand, since he couldn't see her face through the darkness that her hood provided. "You must think me quite stupid. I mean to get a closer look, maybe even speak to her when Yamcha walks away." For some reason, Maylene didn't immediately depart. A little part of her wanted to know what Byron thought her own little plan.  
  
"You're so different," he said after a moment, studying her with his hazel eyes. "I remember you as being ah... high-strung, but now you're a downright hardass."  
  
  
  
Maylene lifted her chin. "Life has not been easy these last couple years, for anybody in the city," she answered quietly, in a slightly kinder tone of voice. He was different, too, she realized. Not so gallant. Apparently he had learned that being Bulma's knight in shining armor was a great deal more difficult than it used it be. "Now I'm going to get a closer look. See you later."  
  
With her head down she moved away from Byron and towards the newly-erected tent. Since she had a more petite stature than any of the soliders who stood in the front row of observers, she was easily able to get away with standing in front of them, and took full advantage of this. But when she saw the king and queen, she almost wished that she hadn't been able to get through the crowds after all.  
  
Yamcha looked normal enough, except for the abnormally smug smile on his face and the oversized mug of beer in one hand, so it was Bulma who had drawn the startled reaction from the partygoers. And for justified reasons, Maylene noted disgustedly. The woman felt the urge to jump into the tent and strangle the life out of Yamcha for all that he had done to her friend.  
  
The queen wore one of her Saiyan-style wraps, the like of which Maylene had never seen before. While the white garment was stunningly beautiful and especially so on a goddess like Bulma, it was a great deal too sheer and too form-fitting for the Earth styles. In fact, it was bordering on-- if not surpassing-- vulgar. The transparent fabric left nothing to the imagination, from the gentle swell of Bulma's bosom and dark nipples to the willowly lines of her small body. The only part of her that was not revealed, thankfully, was her ah, private female attribute-- over the wrap had been placed a heavy golden belt, which sufficiently covered the area. To add the appalling indecency was the fact that the shining curls of her hair had been left free-flowing, except for small sections in the front that had been weaved into intricate patterns typical of the styles of the noble women. Never would such a violation of the human traditions be tolerated if she hadn't been the queen. Besides, the majority of the men didn't seem to mind. They crowded around the tent like pack of wolves watching particularly attractive prey. Looking over her shoulder, Maylene was infuriated to see that Byron was one of them. So much for being the gentlemen!  
  
But no one seemed to be enjoying all of the attention and uproar more than Yamcha himself. He would glance over at his stoic wife (the vacant expression on her pale face frightened Maylene more than tears ever could have), then at the throng of lustful soldiers, and chuckle to himself. Finally, he stood to speak, and a loud cheer went out over the crowds.  
  
"Good evening!" he began, his voice coated with oilyness and false sincerity. "I hope that you are all enjoying yourselves for the last time before the war comes upon us." The people shouted in agreement, and Yamcha went on. "I have decided to join you-- along with my lovely wife, your queen-- to assure you that this war can be won. Don't lose hope yet! The Saiyans are formidable enemies, but they are not without their weaknesses, I assure you." The crowd seemed doubtful-- just the reaction Yamcha had been hoping for. "Speaking of their weaknesses, we have their new king's very own right here in our hands!"  
  
He was talking about Bulma, Maylene realized. So there was a bit of truth behind the rumors-- that brief flash of jealousy that went over Yamcha's features at the mention of that told her that perhaps Vejita hadn't raped and beaten her after all. The Saiyan King must be quite a catch to arouse such wrongdoing in a broken woman like Bulma, the girl mused to herself.  
  
Suddenly, Yamcha seized Bulma's arm and jerked the unresponsive woman up next to him, where the entire crowd could see. Whoops and whistles sounded from around Maylene, who turned around to glare at the shameless perverts, but to no avail.  
  
"Here, my faithful men, is your motivation!" Yamcha announced, gesturing to Bulma in all of her revealing glory. "If you can get past her other... attributes... you will notice the horrible bruises that score her body-- bruises inflicted by none other than the Saiyan King himself!"  
  
The crowd was decidedly predictable-- they booed and chattered amongst themselves angrily. Maylene herself seemed to be the only exception. Was she the only one who could see the truth?  
  
"He has beaten her, violated her, fouled her reputation and spirit!" Yamcha ranted on. "See how she does not react? He has damaged her, poisoned her mind! So you see, we cannot let the Saiyans get away with this act of treason!"  
  
All of Maylene's thoughts were drowned out by the overwhelming, roaring agreement of the masses. Beers were raised along with fists, and the soldiers shouted with renewed inspiration. Maylene, however, was not as impressed with Yamcha's little show as they were. It was truly pathetic when you had to pull a stunt like that to get the support of your people. But Yamcha was not done yet.  
  
"Keep in mind these things that I have said," he reminded the crowd as the noise began to die down. "Because there are hard times ahead of us. Well, ahead of you, anyway." And with that he grinned mischeviously and reached over to grope his wife and cover her mouth with his own-- an act unexcuseable under normal circumstances. On Earth, even the holding of hands was regarded as shameful.   
  
After getting over their initial shock, the crowd cheered again. Maylene felt as if she would vomit. If men like these were orchestrating the war, then they were all screwed. Saiyans took no prisoners, rumor had it. At the same time, her heart was breaking for her friend. Bulma had been forced to endure way more than any ten women should have. It was no wonder that she had retreated inside herself, becoming a mere shell of a person. Maylene could only hope that she was not beyond help by the time the Saiyans arrived.  
  
Who's side are you on? her conscience pestered, once again. Earth is your home. Would you rather see your people slaughtered and your planet taken over by people like the Saiyans? Wisely, Maylene chose not to address that particular issue quite yet. For the moment, she had bigger fish to fry.  
  
When she turned back to the tent to observe her sitution, however, all of her ambition disipated. Not just the original four men were guarding the tent anymore-- Yamcha had doubled the guard, and every single one looked sober. So, he wasn't entirely stupid, she thought in frustration.  
  
"Planning to talk to her, were you?" Byron asked from behind her. "Too bad. I suppose I'm not the only one making stupid plans now, are I? What are you trying to do, copy me?"  
  
"Save it for someone who cares," Maylene retorted, turning to face him. "It would have worked if Yamcha hadn't decided to pull that little stunt."  
  
Byron's face contorted into an expression of anger. "That was low. I underestimated him."  
  
Maylene poked his chest with an accusing finger. "You were enjoying the entire thing, just like every other male, and almost as many females! Who are you to scorn him?"  
  
"I can't help my natural reaction any more than the others could," Byron insisted, his face flushed pink. "Dammit, Maylene, when are you going to take me seriously? I've got a legitimate idea, and at the moment it doesn't look like you've got anything better!"  
  
It was Maylene's turn to blush. "For the moment, anyway. Any fool could come up with something better than a rebellion like that! After this, who would join you in your cause?"  
  
Byron smiled. "There are more people who support Bulma than you think. Its mainly his armies that follow him anyway. Given a choice, almost everybody would side with me. Besides, its common knowledge that it would be a miracle if we could hold our own against the Saiyans. Their famous for their ability to overcome technology and defeat their enemies, remember?"  
  
"Why do I have the feeling that I'm not going to be able to escape this half-assed plan of yours?"  
  
Bulma's former lover could not help but grin. "Because you're too damned stubborn to go down without a fight, that's why."  
  
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Magdalene moved through the city as fast as her legs could carry her, her jaw set in absolute resolution to do what was right-- warn her son of just who he was becoming to be like. Above all things, she recalled, that was what Vejita feared most, down below all of those layers of almost inpenetrable pride. And besides that, it was the only weapon she had left.  
  
Getting through the palace doors was easy enough, the guards had apparently had orders to let her come and go, and she was allowed to pass after confirming her identity. She couldn't help but smile a bit at this. Vejita must have thought that he had some use for her, or else she had no doubt that he would have had her put 'out of the way' until the war was over. Her smile lasted until she reached the grand doors of the throne room. The two stationed guards-- Vejita's personal guard, she noted-- stepped in front of her with menacing looks on their faces.  
  
"You aren't allowed clearance here, Your Highness," one of them warned. "King Vejita's orders."  
  
"Not allowed clearance?" Magdalene repeated incredulously, hardly believing her ears. "Into my own damned throne room? Ridiculous! Let me pass immediately!"  
  
"We were given specific orders, and we mean to follow them." The guard crossed his arms over his chest, and Magdalene could see that he wasn't going to change his mind easily. "Go about your business, the king is busy now."  
  
"May I ask with what?"  
  
The guards, predictably, faltered at her question, and the former queen took the opprotunity to use what Saiyan strength she had to push past them and burst through the doors of the throne room, nearly falling over as she did so. The men followed her angrily, taking hold of both her arms and then bowing before their king.  
  
He was, in fact, occupied. Turles, always loyal to his longtime friend, and the head scientist of the planet stood around a table covered in legal documents. War plans, most likely. They all looked up when she made her rather unorthodox entrance. The scientist and Turles showed nothing more than mild surprise, but Vejita looked absolutely infuriated. Magdalene noticed a strange gleam in his eyes that hadn't been there before-- an almost manic rage that he was carefully trying to suppress, by the looks of it.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded. Then, to his guards, "You incompetent fools! How difficult is it to keep one weak female out of my way?"  
  
"We're sorry, sire," they stammered, suddenly weak and uncertain under the king's glare. "It won't happen again."  
  
"I know that it won't," her son assured them. "Because you two will no longer be in charge of it."  
  
The men seemed crestfallen, but did not loosen their iron grip on the queen. For her part, she seethed from beneath a cool exterior. She resented being treated like a common criminal in her own palace and by her own offspring.  
  
"I came to speak with you, Vejita," she said, her chin lifted. "Would it be too much trouble for your royal self to excuse everyone else from the room?"  
  
Vejita recognized the challenge in her voice and gestured for the men to leave temporarily. When the men, including the guards who had been holding her, had gone, he favored his mother with a bored expression.  
  
"What do you want?" he asked. "And if you're here to beg for your throne back, then you can just turn your ass around right now." He centered his gaze, so like his father's, on her, the nature of his threat not lost on her. "I am in control now."  
  
"I'm not a fool," Magdalene replied hotly. Clearly his newfound power and raging emotion over Bulma was clouding his mind, because normally he wouldn't have even thought of her uttering something so idiotic. "I went to your father's grave earlier."  
  
A spark of interest lighted in his eyes, then disappeared just as quickly as it had come.   
  
"I didn't go to leave flowers or my condolences."  
  
A brow lifted, and finally she had Vejita's attention. "Don't tell me that you believe those ridiculous wives' tales about speaking to the dead. You would have to be a fucking loon to actually go out and try something like that."  
  
"It isn't speaking to the dead, its receiving images from their memories, and the two are quite different." It was Magdalene's turn to cross her arms defensively. "Saiyans have been known to be somewhat telepathic, you know. What you see is poignant memories of the person, and sometimes a person can get selective ones that pertain to what they want to know."  
  
"Say for a moment that all of this shit is real," Vejita proposed, obviously not believing her for a moment. "What would you see if you were to do it?"  
  
"I saw many things, none of them pleasant. I saw, in a sense, you."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"You." Magdalene struggled to think of a way to relate her knowledge to her son without sounding like a 'fucking loon', as he had so charmingly put it. "It was like I was seeing events through your father's eyes. I could hear what he was thinking and the reasons for his actions, and I fear that I am seeing much of him in you. Too much."  
  
"I am in no way like that bastard," Vejita protested, but it was half-hearted.   
  
"I saw how he suppresses his true emotions, how he bottles them up until they explode and consume him and those around. I saw how he never thought before he acted, especially in battle situations. I saw his boredom and bloodlust combine to turn him into a monster." Then her emerald eyes narrowed and honed in on her son. "I saw you, Vejita. I look at you now, and I see all of these things."  
  
"Your imagination is running away from you, Magdalene," Vejita scoffed. "You've been pushed off your throne, and this isn't quite the way I had expected you to retaliate, but its retaliation nonetheless. I will not be intimidated by what you think you saw via my dead father!"  
  
Magdalene knew that she was fighting a losing battle. "Its not imagination, Vejita, its reality, and I wouldn't have come to you if it hadn't been. You know that I am a rational person-- why do you doubt me now?"  
  
"Because you aren't telling me what I want to hear!" Vejita exclaimed in frustration. "How can you expect me to believe this bullshit? You have told me a fucking thousand times how different we are! You're under stress, and you're not being rational. Its a good thing I took the throne from you before this happened, or who knows what the hell would have happened."  
  
"If you weren't so scared of acknowledging yourself, then you would understand it, too," Magdalene insisted. "I don't know why I know this, but I do-- nothing good is going to come of this hostile takeover."  
  
"I am going to crush the weak earthlings, and bring the woman back home with me," Vejita said. "Surely you think me capable of that."  
  
"You can't simply stroll in blindly and expect to defeat such a large planet. They have technology, and they will be fighting a defensive war. And to top that, their king is half-crazed! They may seem weak, but they are not without their weapons. Besides, you aren't just thinking of yourself anymore. You have Bulma to worry about now."  
  
"I don't have time for this lecture," Vejita growled. "Guards!"  
  
"Your people will never stand for this, once they know the potential of the humans," Magdalene reminded him. "They will rebel against you."  
  
"And you and Bardock will lead them, I assume." Vejita rubbed his chin in thought for a moment, then smirked. "But not if I have anything to do with it. If you make one move to inform them of the hidden dangers, or if you act in rebellion against me, I will have Kakkarott and Bardock sent back to the third-class slums where they came from with no hesitation. Naturally, their fellow simpletons will be jealous and resentful towards them, and they will become outcasts of even the third-class, jobless and hungry. You wouldn't want that, now would you?"  
  
Angry tears blurred Magdalene's emerald vision. He was not making an empty threat. He would do it the moment she spoke against him, glad of the opprotunity to be rid of the two men who had bothered him all throughout his lifetime. She knew that she could not allow him to go through with his destructive war plans, but now she had no choice. She couldn't condemn her friends to that horrible fate. She would rather live it herself.  
  
When the guards came to take her away, she let them.  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
******   
  
(A/N): Wow, this is the longest chapter so far in the story. I guess its my way of apologizing for the delay in the posting of this chapter. It was out of my control, but I feel kind of bad nonetheless. Expect the next chapter somewhere around the middle of next week, since I have Homecoming just around the corner... Ooh I can't wait! But anyway, thanks for so patiently waiting!  
  
Please remember to review, and see ya in the next chapter...  
  
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	29. Part Four: 29

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
  
  
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________________________~*Part Four*~: War  
  
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Magdalene was crazy, Vejita told himself. She would have to be, to come to him with a straight face and expect him to believe such stories. She'd lost her throne, her power, and it had driven her off the edge of stability, therefore creating these ridiculous little fantasies in her head. Yet, looking at her back as she was 'escorted' from the room by his guards, he could not bring himself to believe that his mother was crazed. There had been something in her eyes, in her voice that told this to him...  
  
Oh, who the hell was he trying to fool? Vejita scowled as his inner voice berated his actions. What Magdalene had claimed had probably been almost completely truthful, because she had never been one to make up lies, even in the most dire of situations. And besides that, some of her statements rang true. Yes, he was losing his grip on himself, and he was struggling for control of his primal anger, but he hadn't gone over the edge quite yet, and that was what was important. If his own mother couldn't trust him, then who the hell would?  
  
Unaccustomed to this uncertainty and loss of confidence, the prince-- no, king-- did not know what to think. So, as he usually did, he brushed the feelings aside to examine later (as in never). And this was well done, because just then his head scientist, Turles, and what looked to be a human with grotesquely transparent skin and large, unblinking orange eyes strode into the room, each bowing to the new king.  
  
"Sorry to go against your orders of privacy, Vejita-sama, but the ambassador from planet Malydor just arrived with urgent news," Turles explained, gesturing to the alien man beside him. "This is Prince Valyn, the eldest son of the king."  
  
"We've met," Vejita responded with a conspiring half-smile. And what a meeting it had been. They had been introduced to each other when he and his parents had went on a diplomatic trip to Valyn's industrial planet just barely a year before his father's death, and the two equally mischevious boys had hit it off instantly. They shared the same love of battle and controversy, and weren't afraid to show it when necessary. Valyn had a temper on him, but there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he would replace his wise father as a good king when the time came. Vejita had sent for him knowing that he would aid him in this war not just for diplomatic reasons, but for his own pleasure. "And I'm glad to see that you've decided to join in on the fun, Valyn."  
  
The other man grinned. "When we received your message, we were overjoyed. My father sent me as soon as a ship could be sent out."  
  
"I had expected as much. You always were up to a good fight."  
  
Turles cleared his throat, clearly indicating that the two royals begin talking business. Luckily, he too had met Valyn before, or else the interupption would have been unacceptable. Though somewhat reluctantly, Vejita changed the subject of the conversation. The head scientist, who had looked uncomfortable with the two men's informal banter, looked relieved.  
  
"I've called for your help because I will require weapons," Vejita informed the prince, stepping off his throne and leading the men to the table where all of the documents regarding the war had been placed. "The humans are pathetically weak, but they possess a multitude of technology that would enable them to stand their ground against us, and I cannot allow that. I want complete domination over them, no questions asked."  
  
"I have heard much about these humans since all of this mess began," Valyn said with a sideways glance at Vejita. It was clear that he was wondering on his affair with the human queen. "I hear that their queen is something else."  
  
"Something else!" the scientist suddenly squeaked. "That's the world's biggest understatement..."  
  
The other men merely stared at him oddly, then proceeded with their conversation.  
  
"She's the power behind King Yamcha, I understand," Valyn continued. "If it were not for their love of her, the people would rebel."  
  
"The natives will be easily moved over to our side with a small amount of explanation on her behalf," Vejita speculated. "But I don't want to take any chances. Yamcha may be a fool, but anger is a strong motivation."  
  
Valyn, the deeper meaning of Vejita's words not beyond him, glared at his fellow monarch suspciously. "What exactly are you planning to do, Vejita? Because I don't think that my father sent me to help with a war declared over a mere argument."  
  
"Are you insinuating that I am wrong to go to war?"  
  
Turles drew in his breath nervously. The last thing that they needed was the loss of a potentially powerful ally like Malydor, especially a loss due to Vejita's infamous temper. Valyn soon proved that he had more faith than that, however.  
  
"Of course not, my friend," Valyn assured him quietly, placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. It was now obvious that he had heard all about the affair, and the circumstances. "I myself have recently found a mate, and I think that I can understand how you feel. If I lost her..." His voice trailed off as he contemplated the depressing circumstances. "It would be like losing myself."  
  
"You couldn't even begin to understand," Vejita snapped in response, his black eyes guarded.  
  
"I can't if you won't let me, sire," Valyn responded. A heavy silence fell over them as each man struggled with himself, then it was broken by Valyn once again. "But let us push the personal matters aside. We have a war to orchestrate."  
  
Vejita was slow to respond, but after a moment he smirked, and the guarded look in his eyes diminished somewhat. He turned to the documents and maps spread out before them. "See if you can make any sense of all of this shit, and then we'll see where we are." Then he turned away to examine a map of Earth's capital city, absorbed in the task.  
  
Turles took a bold look over at Valyn, and met the man's exotic orange eyes. It was clear that Valyn was helping them more from compassion to an old friend than for political reasons, and for that, Turles felt a new respect for this alien man. In him and his kind, true honor could be found. Kami forbid there come a time when they would need that honor. Valyn offered a conspiring smile, and Turles knew that he would speaking on this further with the man later.  
  
"You-- scientist!" the foreign prince called to the nervous Saiyan who lingered nearby. "Come here and explain to me the meaning of these symbols."  
  
"Those, Highness? They represent the topographical..."  
  
Turles tuned them out and instead inconspicuously studied Vejita, who was studying on his own silently, like a man with no options left. In his face Turles saw something that he had seen before, expect on the face of the prince's father-- vengeance. The new Saiyan King would stop at nothing to exact his revenge on Yamcha and the humans, there was no doubt about that, but just how far would he be willing to go? How many people would have to be killed before his Saiyan bloodlust was satisfied?  
  
"Turles!" Vejita's voice brought Turles' mind back to the present. "Stop daydreaming and get something done! What do you think this is, a tea party?"  
  
Turles frowned as he shuffled through papers, trying to find something to occupy himself with. Oh, how he wished that Vejita's sarcastic statement were true.  
  
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"I hope that you're quite proud of yourself."  
  
Yamcha looked up from his overwhelming stack of papers at the intruder, running a frustrated hand through his already tousled hair. He had been poring over the written plans of his advisors and war planners all morning, and it had done nothing for his temper. The Saiyans could attack at any moment, and here he was, reading.  
  
"Good morning, Lady Briefs," he greeted irritably. "What do you mean? I would appreciate it if you just got right to the point. As you can see, I'm kind of busy."  
  
"You know what I'm talking about, you dolt!" the noblewoman scolded, lifting her skirts just off the floor and crossing the room. Her facial expression relayed that she was also not in a pleasant mood. "That was quite an act that you put on last night at the party. I'm not sure that it was necessary, however."  
  
Yamcha snorted. "All this time, and you're deciding to worry about your daughter's feelings now?"  
  
"This has nothing to do in the least with her feelings!" the woman exclaimed, putting angry hands on her hips. "I could care less how she feels about the matter! What I'm worried about is what the courtiers are going to think! Who do you suppose is funding this war, Your Highness?"  
  
"I don't see what they have to object to. They've been witnessing me and Bulma's... relationship and all its terms for years now, and they've never protested before."  
  
Lady Briefs slammed a hand down on the desk-- the most unladylike thing Yamcha had ever seen her do-- and glared at the man levelly. "You fool, that's because back then, they weren't giving you their precious money, nor were they putting their lives at risk! Any instability in you or Bulma is going to effect their views on the war situation. They're worried enough as it is."  
  
"Let them worry," Yamcha said with a careless wave of his hand. "What they think is of no concern to me."  
  
A delicately arched eyebrow was raised. "You could have a rebellion on your hands soon, if you get used to thinking that way."  
  
"What would you have me do?" Yamcha demanded, throwing down his papers in a fit of indignance. "The men are discouraged! They are up against an infamously dangerous enemy, and their motivation was down. They needed the boost. It will pay off in the long run, I assure you."  
  
"Don't feed me those lies," Lady Briefs snapped. "You did that for your own entertainment and pleasure!"  
  
"Oh? And what have you been doing all these years?" Yamcha challenged her. "What were all of those years of pushing Bulma at me, of arranging our marriage, of conspiring with me against her, hm? Don't tell me that all of that was for the public good!"  
  
Lady Briefs made an attempt at restraint, but did not succeed. Her face went from cool and calculating to an expression that exploded with years of unbridled frustration and vengeance. "The little bitch deserved it! She had it coming! You all don't seem to understand! Until she came along-- by accident, I assure you-- I was the most beautiful woman in court! Me! I was! And then she started to grow up, and... and they all forgot about me! About me! Suddenly everyone was talking about my precious little daughter and how 'gorgeous' she was! 'She's going to become legendary', they said! 'Men will come from all over the universe to court her and make her their queen'! And what about me? Like hell they cared about me anymore! Suddenly, I woke up and I was the aged housewife of a Kami-damned scientist! A blubbering, absent-minded man with no good social standing at all! I've been suffering for years now, you ignorant ass! I'm just recovering what's been taken from me!"  
  
Yamcha looked bewildered for a moment, then remembered himself and moved to the lady's side, placing a calming hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, my lady-- you'll get your revenge soon enough. When I smother that Saiyan bastard, I'll be sure to have you there so that you can savor the look on Bulma's face."  
  
The older woman fought to smile, imagining that moment. "In the meantime, Yamcha, please make sure that you think before you let your testosterone take over."  
  
"Yesterday's event was completely necessary," Yamcha argued. "The men were ready to fucking give up and go home! But when I brought Bulma out, you should have seen their change of mood. As a matter of fact, I had to dispatch several of my best men among their camps to keep their enthusiasm in check."  
  
Lady Briefs at last managed a real smile. "Did you? That's nice to hear. So there is hope for us?"  
  
"Hope?" Yamcha repeated incredulously. "There was always hope!"  
  
"You're lying again. Everyone knows that the Saiyan brutes are almost unbeatable."  
  
"Not when they're up against a people like us! They may be physically superior, but we have something that they don't-- technology. We have guns that can penetrate their ki shields and kill them with a single shot. Don't worry yourself, milady-- the planet is in capable hands." Yamcha sounded like he was trying to convince himself, but the stressed noblewoman took no heed to that. They had to win, in her view, and she wouldn't even let herself imagine it happening any other way. Overconfidently, Yamcha continued on. "If Vejita was capable of putting aside his idiotic pride for a moment, he would realize that he could just enlist the help of another planet for that, but don't worry-- I know him too well to even think of that."  
  
"Know him, do you?" Lady Briefs started coldly. "Then why didn't you predict that he would go after Bulma? Seems to me that if you can know that he won't ask for help, then you should have been able to tell from the moment their affair began."  
  
Yamcha's glare would have been enough to cause a lesser woman to back away, but Lady Briefs was not timid. "I'm not telepathic, Lady Briefs, and believe me, if there had been a way to prevent it from happening..."  
  
"Where is Bulma now?" the woman asked, clearly sick of the topic. The deviousness of the seemingly normal woman's mind never ceased to surprise Yamcha, so he was caught off guard, still thinking about her previous question.   
  
"She's being held in our rooms," Yamcha answered vaguely. "I've posted guards outside the doors and locked the balcony as well so that she can't attempt anything hasty."  
  
"You'll hardly need any of that by now," Lady Briefs mused. "The girl is too far gone. If you opened up the doors of the palace and asked her to leave, she probably wouldn't even hear you."  
  
Yamcha knew that the relationship between mother and daughter wasn't the best, but he just couldn't see any mother being that cold, not even Lady Briefs. If he had possessed a heart, he might have felt sorry for Bulma. "That doesn't seem to bother you."  
  
"Like I said, Your Highness, the silly girl deserves every moment of misery that I can put her through."  
  
The tight set of her jaw warned Yamcha not to push her any further, so he didn't. He might have been overconfident, but he wasn't entirely stupid. "Did you come here just to harass me about last night, Lady Briefs? Because if you did, I really have to get back to my papers, you know, because there's a war going on right now--"  
  
"You may be the king of this planet, Yamcha, but remember who pays the bills and revises your dim-witted plans," Lady Briefs scolded, lifting her aristocratic chin even higher, if that was possible. "Do you really think that I would waste my precious time on such a mediocre question? I also came to find out what you are planning to do when the Saiyans attack."  
  
Yamcha hesitated, glancing down at the stacks of papers before him. "Well, I... I was planning on..."  
  
"Dear Kami," the woman breathed in disbelief. "Are you trying to say that you don't have a battle plan yet?"  
  
"Of course not! We have multiple ideas already-- its just that we can never be sure of how the Saiyans will attack, and each battle plan is for a separate situation. It would take hours for me to explain it all to you. And besides, if the other nobles caught wind of you learning the battle plans..."  
  
"Rubbish," she scoffed. "Everyone knows that I have been included in matters of the crown ever since you and Bulma were married, and they wouldn't dare say anything about it."  
  
There was silence as Yamcha scrambled to think of something to tell her about the half-finished war plans and Lady Briefs awaited his answer impatiently.  
  
"How about this, milady," Yamcha finally proposed. "While I organize all of these ideas for you, you can go and look in on my wife and make sure that she hasn't stopped breathing or something drastic like that. Does that sound appropriate?"  
  
Lady Briefs eyed him from down her nose for a second, her cornflower blue eyes calculating. Then, after what seemed like hours, she broke the gaze and exited the room without so much as a muttered word.  
  
After she left, Yamcha breathed a heavy sigh of relief because, as he 'forgotten' to point out, he didn't have a single completed plan to show her.  
  
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Meanwhile, Bulma lay alone on she and Yamcha's large bed, utterly motionless save for the miniscule rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Yamcha had not been gentle with her the night before. It had been as if he were trying to make up for all the lost time that she had spent with Vejita and not him. Had she even cared to examine herself, she would have found bruises on her inner thighs and small stains of blood on the sheets beneath her. But she didn't care.  
  
  
  
Yamcha had posted guards to keep her from escaping, but there was really no need. If she had been able to get past her soreness and crawl off of the bed, the guards might have been necessary, but she wouldn't have even thought to try. Her once clear and sharp blue eyes were clouded over, staring blindly ahead. She looked not at the ceiling, but rather into a different world. The guards, chilled to the bone by her zombie-like appearance and apparent vacancy, had long since inched away from the bed to stare from a safe distance.  
  
When Lady Briefs knocked on the door, the sound registered in Bulma's mind, but then was filed away in the recesses of her brain. The girl didn't even flinch, and her eyes remained honed in to her private world.  
  
"Leave us for a moment," the noblewoman barked at the guards. The men hesitated, uncertain whether to disobey their king or this infamously volatile woman. Wisely, after a death glare from Lady Briefs, they left the room.   
  
If the woman felt any remorse at all for her daughter, she didn't show it. She walked over to the bed where her daughter lay wearing a rather bored expression, in fact. With a sigh, she sat down on the edge and studied the girl through smoldering eyes.  
  
"Can you hear me, girl?" she asked the still form.  
  
Bulma didn't move. The pattern of her breathing didn't even vary at her mother's words.  
  
Lady Briefs' mouth twisted into a disapproving frown. "I realize that you can hear me, though you might not show it. Pretend all that you want, because I am going to speak whether you reply or not." Still no response. It sounded as if she didn't truly believe her words, but was rather speaking to satisfy her own self. "Your husband seems to think that I owe you a bit of compassion, which I find to be quite ironic, considering your peculiar relationship. At any rate, this little conversation is the most compassion that I am going to show you."  
  
If the woman been looking at her daughter as she spoke, she would have noticed a slight twitch of one of the queen's eyes, but she was not. The small response went unnoticed.  
  
"Every woman should know how she came to be, don't you think?" Lady Briefs continued in a reluctant voice. "Judging from the stories of you and that Saiyan prince, and by the blood on your sheets--" She eyed the offending stains with distaste. "I won't have to explain how you were conceived, but I do owe you the story of how your father and I came to be together." The older woman looked down at her bejeweled fingers, stalling momentarily. "Our marriage was not one of choice, at least not on my part. You see, at the time, my father was struggling to conceal our family's debt, and it seemed that the only way that it could be covered was for me to marry a man-- a wealthy man." The light blue eyes stared off into the past, much like her daughter's had been before the twitch. Now, Bulma seemed to be on the borderline between consciousness and dreamland. "I could have had nearly any man that I wanted, of course, being the court beauty, but not just any nobleman would do. This man had to be easy to manipulate, and frightfully loyal, because the knowledge of my debt could never be allowed to become public. It seemed that there was no such man to fit the bill, and just when I was beginning to lose hope, I ran across the court scientist at a banquet. That scientist was your father, and from the moment that I met him I knew that he was the one man who could satisfy all of the requirements for the marriage."  
  
Bulma's eyes had cleared, and she stared up at the ceiling now, listening silently to her mother's story. She wasn't sure where the story was going, but she did know that somewhere along the line her mother had probably heartlessly manipulated her father-- and enjoyed it.  
  
"He was taken with me, of course, though he was a bit surprised that I deemed him worthy to speak to. It wasn't long before I had him twisted around my little finger, ready to come running at my every beck and call." Lady Briefs smiled at the 'pleasant' memory. "I didn't love him, of course-- I didn't even really like the man, actually. He was your typical genius-- scatterbrained and far from civilized. Its a wonder that I survived our courtship, let alone our marriage. But anyway, on the night of the wedding, I had a little bit too much to drink-- which was understandable, considering that I was being wed to an unsophisticated fool against my will-- and when we went to his rooms, I let him consummate our marriage, and that is how you came to be."  
  
The woman glanced down at her daughter, but missed the aware glint in her blue eyes. She didn't even know her daughter well enough to tell the difference. Lifting her chin, she continued on.  
  
"I never wished for nor wanted a child, most especially not a girl, who would hamper my social status and take up all of my time in her upbringing. If I had had it my way, I would have miscarried, or bore a male. At least then your father would have had to worry about it and not I," she said, her voice completely devoid of any emotion even resembling compassion. "After you were born, I was still as beautiful as I was before, but I had to hide my leftover weight with corsets and the like. I've never fully regained my figure, either. But even with those flaws, no one could hold a candle to me." The woman smiled wistfully, then her face hardened into a mask of jealousy and anger. "Then you grew up. Your features were more delicate, more refined, more approachable. While I had a stubborn look to me that scared many away, your face resembled that of an angel, calling people to you. You were simply ethearal, they told me, as if you had been carved right from the stars of heaven."  
  
Inside, Bulma flinched at her mother's steely voice. The woman hated her-- truly hated her with every fiber of her pathetic being. And she wondered, had any of the Saiyan mothers back on Vejitasei hated their children just because they were better looking?  
  
"I hated you then, and I hate you now!" Lady Briefs ranted on. It was clear that she did not think that Bulma could hear her, or else she wouldn't have let herself get out of hand. Now she was practically yelling into Bulma's unresponsive face. "If it had not been for your father doting on you every second, I would have smothered you in your cradle and rid myself of you once and for all!" Her hands clasped together as if she were imagining snuffing the life out of the helpless infant even now. "You are the one that they all talk about, you are the one that all the men want, even now that I am single again! Kami, even the barbarian Saiyans couldn't resist you! And for that, you must suffer."  
  
Lady Briefs then struggled to regain her cool composure and stood, brushing off her demure dark skirts as she did. "You will never be reunited with your Saiyan prince again, even if I have to kill you myself. Never will I allow a rival to taste the happiness that I could not have, do you hear? Never." Then she left, leaving Bulma alone with her guards once again.  
  
Had she looked a little closer, she would have seen the only evidence of Bulma's consciousness herself-- two trails of tears running down the pale cheeks, two bits of crystallized agony.  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
******   
  
(A/N): So now you have some insight into why Lady Briefs is so... evil. Her wounds have been festering for far too long, don't you think? Will this agony ever end? Not if Rhapsody has anything to do with it! ^_~ I'm not sure when the next chapter will be out, so I'll post my best guess on my profile later. Its just that Halloween is coming up, and I've got so many things coming up... Anyway, please review and tell me what you think! Love you all...  
  
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	30. Part Four: 30

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________________________~*Part Four*~: War  
  
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Turles rushed through the maze-like halls of the palace, dodging random people who beckoned to him as he went. It seemed that in such a short time, the entire elite class of Vejitasei had gathered out in the halls, ready to ambush anyone who might have some information as to when they were going to 'finally crush those Earth weaklings'. Unfortunately, Turles was quite a bit stronger than them, and was able to push through without saying much more than 'no comment'.  
  
Now that he was in the royal wing of the enormous building, the throngs were reduced to a few servants here and there, with the exception of the few men who had been bold enough to trail along behind him. As he neared the former queen's chambers, however, even those men eventually disappeared. Rumors had gone around the palace saying that ever since Vejita had overthrown her, Magdalene had been in a horrible temper, and above all things, the people feared the woman's temper. Turles frowned-- he feared it himself.  
  
Vejita had finalized his arrangements with Valyn at last, and sent Turles to do his dirty work while he sat atop his throne, sipping fine wine and planning out the last moments of Yamcha's life, mostly likely. The men had decided that Valyn would send for weapons of mass destruction rather than guns for every individual soldier, since they could uphold their ki shields for a sufficient amount of time. They would then use these bombs or whatever Valyn came up with to shock the capital cities of the planet in the dead of night, then use the moon to go Oozaru and wreak havoc on the planet. The weakling humans, even with their little guns, would have no defense against this unexpected talent of the Saiyan race. Vejita had been smart not to let Yamcha know of the transformation, Turles mused. Soon enough the armies would be crushed, and Vejita would be free to go to the palace rescue Bulma. Naturally, he assumed that he would win and be able to just sweep her off back to Vejitasei, but something about all of these easy plans tickled Turles' mind, teasing him.  
  
Sure, the odds were all in their favor, but the situation was such that the tables could turn at any given moment. The Saiyan army was surely the strongest in the universe, and Vejita was the most powerful fighter anyone had ever laid eyes on, but he was also very impulsive, and if he were to lose his temper at any time, this would be it. Yamcha would probably end up facing him one-on-one, with Bulma's delicate life on the line, and who could be sure how Vejita would react? Turles shuddered as he dared to imagine what would happen if Bulma were killed. He made a vow to himself that if he were there, he would do everything in his power to protect the queen. That is, if he even made it to the palace. The humans may have been weak, but they could never guess at what kinds of technology Yamcha had up his sleeve. And besides that, the man was a dirty fighter. He would betray his kind to save his own ass, maybe even retreat with Bulma to another planet.  
  
"What do you want, Turles?"  
  
Turles was startled out of his thoughts and found that he was standing in front of Magdalene's door, which was guarded by two of Vejita's men, one of which had just asked him the question. The elite fighter shook his head to clear his thoughts, then replied.  
  
"Vejita-sama sent me to speak to Magdalene," he said arrogantly, letting the man know just who had the higher position at the moment. "Move your ass out of the way."  
  
The man nodded and opened the doors for him. Turles stepped briskly through and into Magdalene's exquisite chambers, decorated in shades of gold and crimson, with black marble floors and columns. The royal colors. Turles felt a small, unexpected pang of remorse for what Vejita had done. Magdalene was the epitome of royalty, and it just wasn't quite right to strip her of her title so high-handedly.  
  
  
  
Magdalene was reclining on her bed, her face set into a brooding expression, with Bardock and Kakkarott standing around her, each looking more sympathetic than the next. When he entered, all three looked up in surprise.  
  
"What do you want?" Bardock snapped. "Did Vejita send you here to strip us of our titles, too?"  
  
Turles growled. "If you don't watch yourselves, that could very well happen. I came here to relay a message to Magdalene, a message that is not to be overheard. Would you please excuse us?"  
  
Kakkarott, ever trusting of family, nodded and exited the room without protest. Bardock, however, made sure to stop before his other son and give him a level stare.  
  
"I don't think that Vejita knows what he's doing right now," he said quietly, with a glance over his shoulder at the still figure of Magdalene. "He is pushing away those who he is going to need most. When he leaves to attack Earth, I suggest that he bring Magdalene with him. I sense that she has a big part to play in this yet."  
  
"Vejita is two steps ahead of you, as usual," Turles replied coldly. "He has sent me to tell her that she is to accompany us to Earth."  
  
Bardock nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Good. I hope that Vejita has come to this decision for the right reasons."  
  
Turles waited until he had left, then turned to Magdalene, who watched him expectantly with her unsettling green gaze. She could scare the shit out of just about any warrior, he mused.  
  
"What does His Majesty want now?" the woman asked, her voice flinty. "I suppose he'll ask me to move in with the third-class women now."  
  
"Please don't glare at me like that, Magdalene," Turles pleaded uncharacteristically. He was behind Vejita all the way, but that didn't mean that he had ever intended to get Magdalene pushed down like this. She was, after all, kind of like his mother figure. "I'm only doing what my king bids me to. I've come here to let you know that when Vejita leaves for Earth tomorrow, you are to accompany him."  
  
Magdalene sat up sharply, her eyes narrowing. "I don't understand-- I could only get in his way."  
  
Turles looked over his shoulder, as if expecting Vejita to materialize there at any moment, then looked back at the suspicious Magdalene. "He didn't say this to me directly, but I think he's worried about what will happen here when he's gone. You might be able to stir up a rebellion of some kind."  
  
"A rebellion?" Magdalene managed a cynical laugh. "He gives me more credit than I had thought he would."  
  
Turles berated himself for this little lapse of control, then gave voice to what he had been wanting to say ever since entering her chambers. "I overheard your conversation with Vejita-- you know, when you said that you had gone to his father's grave."  
  
Immediately she was on the defensive. "Oh really? So you are going to call me crazy too?"  
  
"No," he said uncertainly. "Its just that I don't think that Vejita was right to brush you off like that. I mean, I don't think he's as far gone as his father, but he's still in danger of losing it."  
  
"He won't listen to the voice of reason any longer. He started this out with good intentions in mind, but the jealousy has clouded everything." Magdalene said this calmly, radiating confidence. "Bulma is a very dangerous woman-- she'll bring peril to any empire that she presides over, whether it be Earth's or Vejitasei's. When a single person possess that kind of beauty-- that kind of power-- only adversity can become of it. When one man has her, the other will crave her, and it will be hard for him to resist the temptation of violence, because love and violence go hand in hand, don't you think?"  
  
"I wouldn't know," Turles admitted somewhat uncomfortably. "I've never experienced the emotion myself, and from what I've seen of it, I don't want to."  
  
Magdalene laughed humorlessly. "Vejita is too far gone to reach, Turles, but you are not. You are his closest friend, and it is through you that we can reach him. Stay close to him through these dark times, and pounce on every bit of hope that escapes through his cool exterior."  
  
He was not sure of how to respond to Magdalene's heavy statements, so he remained silent, turning them over in his head. He felt as if he were in the middle of a tug-of-war, with Magdalene and the voice of reason on one end, and Vejita and the bonds of friendship and loyalty to his empire on the other. Magdalene recognized his confusion and leaned back onto her bed again.  
  
"Go tell Vejita that I will go," she said quietly. "Run along, or else he'll get suspicious. The next time that you get a chance, please come and tell me of the battle plans. I think that I have a right to know."  
  
Feeling a headache coming on, Turles nodded and left the former queen alone.  
  
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Midday found Vejita not in his throne room, making last-minute plans for his invasion of Earth the next day, but instead sitting out on the rocks near the ocean, glaring broodingly out to sea.  
  
The insistent nagging of the nobleman and elite soldiers had gotten to the point of suffocation, and by the time noon rolled around the Saiyan King had decided that he had two options: kill them all or escape from the palace. Somehow, his mind told him that the first option would not go over well with the people he was struggling to gain support from, so he had slipped out of the oppressive building while the others had been momentarily distracted.  
  
He hadn't done it because he was afraid of becoming unpopular-- quite the contrary, he was proving to be a very endearing leader. He was darkly handsome, charismatic when he chose to be, and the very embodiment of the Saiyan ideals. Not only that, but he was the most powerful man in the universe, a force to be reckoned with, and anyone with half a brain could understand that Vejitasei needed a man like him to uphold their reputation. Vejita thought of all this and smirked. When the time came that he had to return the throne to his mother, they might be met with some opposition. Not that he minded. He loved to rule and to hold the brunt of the empire's power in his hands, but at the same time he knew that he would never live it down if he ripped it from his mother's hands before it was his time. That would be acting just like his father, something that he had never aspired to do.  
  
This reminded him of the scene that Magdalene had made the night before. She had claimed that she had seen through her deceased husband's eyes, and had realized that Vejita was becoming just like him. At first, Vejita had brushed it off as the typical bullshit that came out of desperation, but then he had taken a few steps back and looked at the big picture. And he had been horrified to see that his mother was half right. But never for one second had he even considered changing his behavior. If he shared some miniscule traits with his father, then that was acceptable-- heredity was a bitch-- but Magdalene was surely exaggerating. Vejita had assured himself of this already, and refused to waste another moment on the subject.  
  
Instead, he focused on the breathtaking view of the sea. He had come here thinking that it would calm the inner turmoil that had been waging beneath his cool facade, but instead it was having the opposite effect. Not only were the hovering battle spacecraft at the docks nearby and the gathering groups of loud soldiers accompanying them distracting, but the color of the water and the sky above it seemed to be taunting him, reminding him of the impossibly blue eyes that he might never see again. And even worse than that, the rock that he had taken Bulma to multiple times lay only a few yards away, a painful reminder of the woman that he was risking all of this for.  
  
Never in his life had he ever imagined that he would allow himself to get into such a fuss over a mere woman, and look at him now. But this woman was like no other, he reminded himself. She was almost unbelievably beautiful, and her intriguing spirit was even more alluring to the man. He had never needed something so much in his entire lifetime, so it only seemed fitting that he should have to fight for it. The way he saw it, Bulma was the ultimate prize and the war and murder of Yamcha was just an added bonus. He would have fought any planet, or all of them banded together, to get her back. Instead of thinking of this strange emotion as a weakness, as he might have before meeting Bulma, he viewed it as an empowering edge. He now had the motivation that few others had, and he planned on using it to his advantage.  
  
Organizing his thoughts had always relaxed Vejita, and it worked now. He was finally able to tune out the noise of the preparing army and instead just focus on the crashing waves around him, the waves that perfectly imitated his personality. He could have sat there like this for hours, but instead he was rudely interuppted.  
  
"Vejita-sama?"  
  
The Saiyan King started and almost fell off of his rock before was able to right himself. His onyx eyes flashing with anger, Vejita turned to glare at his interuppter. "What the fuck do you want?"  
  
Kakkarott, who looked a little taken aback at the rude question, raised up his hands in defense. "Sorry for scaring you. I just wanted to ask you a question. It took me forever to find you, too-- the ocean hides your ki pretty well, you know."  
  
Vejita massaged his temples in annoyance. "Did it ever strike you that I chose this spot because I did not want to be bothered?"  
  
"I guess so," Kakkarott admitted, strangely forlorn. "But I really need to get an answer. I mean, the war is basically starting tomorrow."  
  
"What is it then?!"  
  
Kakkarott glanced over at the awaiting ships, and then back to Vejita. "When you leave for Earth, will I be coming with you?"  
  
Vejita rolled his eyes. "You think that I'd let you out of this that easily? You were there when it all started, so you will be there for the end."  
  
"I understand." Kakkarott still looked melancholy, an emotion that did not suit him. Vejita was interested in spite of himself.  
  
"What's your problem, Kakkarott?" he snapped, as if he weren't really interested but instead obligedto ask.  
  
"Its just that if I leave with you, I'd be leaving Chichi behind, and..." Kakkarott trailed off self-consciously. "I don't know if I'll be able to come back to her. She's pregnant, you know."  
  
Vejita was surprised. He had always known of Kakkarott's would-be mate, but it had never occured to him that Kakkarott might be interested in starting a family so soon. That was something that Saiyan warriors usually did when they grew too old to fight anymore, not during their prime years. "And what does that have to do with anything? Its your duty to fight for your empire, fool!"  
  
"I know that," Kakkarott replied. "I wasn't going to pull out, I was just hoping..."  
  
Vejita was sick of all of this sentiment. Besides, it angered him to speak to the man who had sided not with him, but instead with his overthrown mother. "Hoping what?" he demanded impatiently. "That I would let the bitch come with you?"  
  
"Oh no, Vejita-sama," Kakkarott assured him. "I would never put her in that kind of danger. I was just hoping that you would place me in a safer position during the fighting, so that there might be a better chance of me returning home to my mate."  
  
Kakkarott was allowing his feelings for the woman interfere with his battle, Vejita realized with distaste. When it came right down to it, would this interfere with his ability to depend on the man if things got rough? Vejita decided to stop this dangerous thing before it started. "I will do no such thing. Who do you think I am, Kakkarott, your mother? This isn't a little skirmish, this is a fucking war, and I cannot have men who will not give their lives for the cause. Do you understand me?"  
  
Kakkarott knew what Vejita was implying. The king would sooner kill Chichi, therefore getting rid of Kakkarott's distraction, then allow one of his best men to fight half-heartedly. Swallowing hard, Kakkarott knew that he had no choice. All he could do was give it his all and pray to Kami that the enemy was easily beaten.  
  
"I understand."  
  
Vejita only half-believed him, but did not want to waste any more time on the man. "Go and bother Bardock instead of me. At least he will be interested in hearing your complaints."  
  
Without another word, Kakkarott was gone. Vejita shook his head at the strangeness of the man and his ridiculous feelings. But then again, another part of his mind argued, wasn't he doing much the same thing? Letting his feelings for a woman cloud his reason?  
  
Growling, Vejita smothered that self-incriminating train of thought and tried, once again, to focus on the ocean, his source of inner peace. After twenty minutes of this forced contentment, Vejita could stand it no longer.  
  
Compared to this thoughtful hell, even the pressing questions of the nobles seemed tolerable.  
  
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With Vejita's unsympathetic words still in his head, Kakkarott flew slowly to the third-class section of the city, still deep in thought.  
  
Kakkarott could not decide what to do for the life of him. On the one hand, he felt a strong need to defend his planet and the honor of his people in battle, but on the other... Chichi's kind brown eyes flashed in his mind, taunting him. She had just broken the news to him a few days ago-- she was carrying his child. A baby boy. No matter how he looked at it, leaving her to bear the child alone, with the possibility of him dying in battle, seemed terribly wrong and against all of the morals that Kakkarott had set for himself. But he didn't have much of a choice, because Vejita had threatened to harm her already, and the Saiyan King made no empty threats.  
  
Below him, in the dirty streets of the third-class neighborhoods, children playing stopped to wave at the flying soldier, grins on their little dark faces. Kakkarott smiled at the thought that one day, he and Chichi would have a child of their own. Fatherhood was not something that he wanted to miss out on, and he had a foreboding feeling about this oncoming war.  
  
Vejita and the others all seemed to think that it would be easy, but Kakkarott knew that that would not be so. What the humans lacked in strength and training they made up for in technology, and vice versa for the Saiyans. They were evenly matched, as far as Kakkarott could tell. Also-- Yamcha had possession of Bulma, something that could be used against Vejita in a tight situation. Kakkarott shook his head. All of these conflicting thoughts were going to drive him mad before he even had a chance to talk to Chichi.  
  
Finally, he reached the familiar little brown house, and touched down before it quietly. Chichi's neighbors knew of her relationship with him, but that didn't mean that he should set tongues wagging, she had told him. In her peers' eyes, her mating with an elite soldier-- even one who had come from poverty himself-- was something that a woman could easily flaunt. Kakkarott remembered how competitive the third-class were amongst each other, each battling for the highest position in the lowest class on Vejitasei. He was glad that he didn't pay much attention to social things like that, he decided.  
  
Chichi came swiftly out of the house, wearing a hooded cloak, as if she had been expecting him. No, Kakkarott corrected himself, she was expecting him. They had formed a strong bond between them since their mating, and it seemed that they could tell each other's general whereabouts, no matter how far apart they were. In a way, this was a blessing, but then again, neither were sure what would happen if the other partner were to die. Kakkarott didn't know about all of this, but he did know that even if he could be harmed through the bond with her, he would have done it anyway. He loved her.  
  
"Why are you here so early?" she asked, embracing him modestly. "We aren't going to dinner until later tonight, remember?"  
  
Kakkarott looked down at his feet, his face reddening. "Well, actually Chi, I don't think that I can go with you tonight."  
  
Her black brows came together in confusion. "What? I thought that we had arranged for it--"  
  
"Its not that I don't want to," he was quick to add. "But I don't have a choice. Vejita is leaving tomorrow for Earth, and I have to go with him. I don't have a choice." He looked into her eyes, then down at his feet, his voice getting weaker with distress. "He threatened to harm you if I did not do what he asked."  
  
Chichi placed an understanding hand on his shoulder. "Lets go somewhere more private, and we can talk more."  
  
Kakkarott took her hand and nodded, leading her through the narrow streets and towards the outskirts of the city, where they could be alone. Finally they stopped at a public garden and seated themselves on a bench, secluded from the other people loitering there. Chichi grabbed hold of her lover's chin and forced him to look her in the eyes.  
  
"Tell me all about it."  
  
So Kakkarott told her. As he related to her what he knew of the battle plans and the circumstances, Chichi's expression grew more and more frustrated. She never was too subtle with her emotions, Kakkarott mused. At least that made it easier for him to figure out what she was thinking. Stubborness was becoming apparent on her features, and that set of warning bells in Kakkarott's head.  
  
"Don't do anything stupid, Chichi," he warned her. "You're carrying our child now, you're delicate--"  
  
"Bullshit!" Chichi exclaimed angrily. "I've got lots of time before I get weaker, Kakkarott, and you had better get used to that! There is no way that I'm going to let that ass Vejita separate us, maybe forever."  
  
"We don't have a choice," Kakkarott replied sadly. "I have to go fight, and your place is back here, where its safe."  
  
Chichi lifted her chin, refusing to accept what she did not want to hear. "During war, nowhere is safe. I'm sure that I can get a position on the ship, maybe organizing--"  
  
"No," he cut her off sternly. "I won't allow you to put yourself and our baby in danger, Chi. I'll go fight, and I promise you that I'll return at any cost."  
  
Her dark eyes were smoldering, a sure sign that no amount of arguing could sway her. "Promises mean nothing! Promises are easily broken, Kakkarott, and you know it just as well as I do. Vejita can't dictate your entire life! He has a million other soldiers that can serve him-- what's one more?"  
  
"Every man counts. This is going to be a close battle."  
  
"This is a pointless battle!" Chichi crossed her arms defiantly. "All of these innocent lives are going to be wasted just so Vejita can get back his favorite bedwarmer! I've met Bulma, and she's nothing special, believe me."  
  
Kakkarott laughed in spite of himself. "I don't know about that. She's awful pretty." Then, in response to Chichi's black look, he wiped the smile off his face. "But she couldn't hold a candle to you."  
  
Chichi rolled her eyes. "Alright, I admit that she's the prettiest girl I've ever seen, but I hardly think any one woman is worth going to war over. Vejita's lost his mind, just like his father did."  
  
Kakkarott grew protective of his king and childhood friend. "I don't think he's crazy, Chi, and he's not like his father, either. At least not totally. I just think that he's in love, and he's scared to lose it. Think about it-- Bulma's the only girl he's ever spent any amount of time on. I think that now that he's experienced compassion, he doesn't want to let it go."  
  
"I think that he's thinking with his groins and not with his head."  
  
There was no swaying her, so Kakkarott reluctantly gave in. "That isn't for us to decide, anyway. But please, Chichi, promise me that you'll stay here, where its safe."  
  
Chichi was silent for a moment, her eyes averted from Kakkarott's, then finally she replied. "Fine. I promise."  
  
Kakkarott heaved sigh of relief, then smiled. "I'm so glad. It'll make me feel better knowing that at least you and our son are safe." Gently, he leaned over and kissed her, what he thought was their final good-bye.  
  
Chichi returned it, then pulled away with a half-hearted smile on her face. "I'll be missing you every moment that you're gone," she told him solemnly. "Just return to me safely, alright?"  
  
He nodded, then stood to leave. "I love you."  
  
Then, he was gone. Chichi watched him leave, and didn't feel bad about breaking her promise, because as she had said before, promises were all too easily broken. Standing and pulling her hood over her face, she began in the direction of the palace, her lips set in a tight line.  
  
She was going to get on one of those ships with Kakkarott, even if she had to stowaway like a common criminal. She was on her way to the chambers of the former queen Magdalene, who would surely have need of an extra handmaiden.  
  
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The next morning, just before the ships departed for Earth, Kakkarott ventured down to Chichi's residence to say his last good-byes. When he knocked on her door, no one answered.  
  
On one of the ships, Chichi watched King Vejita and his close followers, including Kakkarott, got onto their own ship. Beside her, Magdalene offered a conspiring smile.  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
******   
  
(A/N): Well, I think that this was a pretty quick update, compared to my other ones as of late. I'm sure that you're all looking forward to the next chapter, when things really get started, just as much as I am, so I'll try to make it another quick one. Special thanks to all of the cool people who have been e-mailing me with their compliments. You have no idea how much I appreciate your extra feedback. To everyone else-- feel free to IM me anytime, I love to chat!  
  
PLEASE remember to leave a review, and until the next chapter... ja ne!  
  
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	31. Part Four: 31

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________________________~*Part Four*~: War  
  
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Maylene peered through the dirty windows of the building she, Byron, and some of his 'followers' were staying in, her green eyes narrowed and suspicious. The last couple of days had been madness in the streets of the city-- soldiers had been called to duty and had to be alert at all times, therefore making it that much harder to get around the city without being stopped for clearance. A person could hardly even go out to take a piss before a soldier had stopped them, keeping close eyes on the person to make sure that ideas of rebellion weren't in their head. And they also looked for men like Byron-- men who had narrowly escaped being chosen for the army, men who had been hiding in the sewers and cellars of the capital during those fateful hours of selection.  
  
There were about thirty of them in this building, and that amount again just across the street, all laying in wait for the Saiyans to attack. Clearly it was coming up any time now, or else Yamcha would not have bothered to post the soldiers otherwise. Besides that, a heavy, foreboding feeling hung in the air, and if that didn't mean war, then Maylene wasn't half as intuitive as she thought she was.  
  
Beside her, one of the other women seemed to notice something. She did a double take, then stood up straighter to see better through the dusty glass. Maylene followed her eyes and indeed made out an approaching figure-- a cloaked man. When he passed under the window to enter the building, she recognized him to be Byron.  
  
He entered the room only to be swarmed by all of the humans, who shouted out their queries loudly. Maylene, rolling her eyes at their insanity-- she had kept some of her first-class eliteness even through her hardships-- simply shoved her way through the masses to her, well, friend.  
  
"What news do you carry?" she asked, shooting rude glances at the surrounding people. Grumbling, they moved a few feet away. "  
  
"I wasn't spotted," Byron announced, somewhat proudly. "I--"  
  
"Of course you weren't spotted, you dolt, or else you wouldn't be standing here!" Maylene snapped, impatient with his boastings. "Just get to the important part."  
  
"Tomorrow," he informed her forlornly. "The Saiyans were detected on Tereh's radar-- their prime minister just delivered the news to King Yamcha. They have a full fleet of battleships, and if nothing slows them then they'll be here tomorrow afternoon."  
  
"Tomorrow?" Maylene could hardly believe what she was hearing. Tomorrow was too soon. Anyone could see that Yamcha hadn't decided on a route of action yet-- his soldiers were spread around throughout the city, missionless. She wondered whether that was a good or a bad thing, and once again she was led to thinking that she might be on the Saiyan's side. "What does that mean for us?"  
  
Byron shrugged. "Its hard to say. We don't know how or when they'll attack, or even where. But from what I could overhear from the soldiers, it sounds like Yamcha's anticipating that they'll go after the capital-- here. If they do, we'll send someone to speak to them, and perhaps we can join their forces."  
  
"Join their forces? That's the most half-brained thing I've heard all day!" Maylene slugged Byron on the shoulder in emphasis of her point. "The Saiyans take no prisoners and make no allies in wartime, remember? They would kill us on the spot, at best, or else torture us."  
  
"We can say that we come on behalf of Bulma."  
  
Maylene shook her head uncertainly. "You people must be really desperate to risk yourselves like that. I could think of nicer, less painful ways of meeting my death."  
  
Byron hesitated before speaking. "Well... you know that their new king is the one that Bulma was... with..." He trailed off and looked away from Maylene, his hazel eyes depressed.  
  
"Don't feel sorry for yourself," Maylene insisted firmly. "What, did you honestly think that she would never love anyone again? You are part of her past, Byron, and you're just going to have to accept that. The man is the most powerful person in the universe-- how could you ever hope to compete?"  
  
"You're here for the rebellion, too! And part of her past? If I am, then what does that make you?" Byron challenged. "You're just as much a part of her past as I am."  
  
"I'm here with you because I have no other choice. And I'm not trying to force myself back into her life," Maylene hissed defensively. "I'm not the one who's staging a fucking rebellion to get her attention, Byron! Face it, you're not her knight in shining armor anymore."  
  
The former lord held her glare, then turned and stormed out of the building again. Maylene crossed the room to the window and watched his cloaked figure take refuge in the other occupied building. The people behind her groaned in disappointment at missing the news, but Maylene payed them no mind. For now, she would say nothing. They would find out soon enough anyway.  
  
Returning to her sitting place below the window, Maylene glanced at the other people around her. They were a motley crew-- nobles in hiding, regular second and third class people, beggars off the streets, children... Maylene studied their dirty little faces for any signs of worry, and saw far too much. The former noblewoman turned her face away from the heartbroken, anxious children and down to the ground which she sat on. It was just plain, hard, packed-down dirt, and they lay on beds of rags, torn from their own clothing for minimal comfort. For the first time in a long while, she found herself longing for the shallow comforts of the first class and hated herself for it.  
  
But try as she might, she could not muster the courage to remove herself from Byron's noble-- if somewhat hopeless-- cause. She would be right with them tomorrow, ready to face death or torture at the hands of the Saiyan King. And for what? Maylene thought for a moment, burying her face in her cloak. She thought of the confines of human society and the strict images that everyone was expected to keep up, the rules that one could die for breaking, and the unfairness of Bulma's miserable fate.  
  
Freedom, she decided. They were fighting for freedom.  
  
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Valyn stood by the window of his chambers on the ship, half-heartedly admiring the stars as they whizzed past his vision. It had been a long while since he had flown off to a far-away battle, and he was all too happy to be partaking in war once again. And the fact that one of his old friends was at the head of the operation only made things better.  
  
But something was not right with Vejita. He had changed since Valyn had last saw him-- not only physically (as was obvious for a young man), but mentally. The experience with the human woman had changed him. Gone was the old Vejita who didn't care for a thing in the world besides himself. That man had been replaced by someone different, a man who was driven by emotion only.   
  
Not that this was necessarily bad-- Valyn had been waiting for the indifferent prince-turned-king to come into his own for a long while, and the Malydorian did not think that the humans would be able to hold their own for very long, even with their technology and Vejita's lack of logical thinking. And now, with the aid of Malydor, they didn't have a chance against the Saiyan empire.  
  
Suddenly, shouting could be heard down the hall. The voices belonged to the Saiyan guards, judging by their deep voices and heavy accents. Valyn at first brushed it off as one of the many brawls that had broken out amongst the adrenaline-driven men since their departure, but when the noises did not stop, he decided to investigate. Before leaving the room, he reached over to his bed, where a small package rested, and took it with him.  
  
When the tall, transparent-skinned man stepped out into the hallway, the shouting quieted somewhat. Valyn grinned, knowing that they recognized him as Vejita's right-hand man, and pushed through them to the doors of the control room, where Vejita undoubtedly was dealing with the disturbance.  
  
"What's going on out here?" he asked as he entered. "Did the cafeteria run out of hamburgers or something?"  
  
The room was empty besides Vejita, who stood at the window, massaging his temples, much as Valyn had been doing. When the Malydorian spoke, he looked up and rolled his eyes.  
  
"It was another damned arguement," the Saiyan King growled. "What did you think it was, an uprising?"  
  
Valyn looked over his shoulder at the closed door with surprise in his orange eyes. "They're getting worse. It sounded much worse than any of the previous ones."  
  
"They grow impatient for battle," Vejita explained, his stressed expression revealing much the same characteristic in himself. "You of all people should know that."  
  
"Do you grow impatient also?" Valyn asked, shifting the package in his arms.  
  
Vejita's black eyes followed the movement, then went back to his friend's face. "What do you think?! I can't wait until I get to add their blood to my hands."  
  
The other man nodded, then took a seat near to Vejita. The king's face was pale under his tan, and the dark circles underneath his eyes had gotten worse. "What else ails you? Don't bother with your damn lies, either-- I know you far too well to fall for them anymore."  
  
Vejita raised a brow at the bold question and looked away stubbornly.  
  
"Its the woman-- Bulma-- isn't it?" Valyn shook his head. "You do not have to hide your feelings for her. I understand. I have a woman waiting for me at home now, also."  
  
"I do not carry any overbearing feelings for the woman," Vejita protested. "I am merely taking back what is mine from an enemy."  
  
"Is experiencing emotion really that dangerous?" Valyn asked incredibly. Even now, after all that he had done to get the girl back, Vejita was still denying it. He had not grown any less bullheaded over the years.   
  
"Emotion is weak. It can be used against you."  
  
"Emotion is not weak," Valyn argued. "Of all people, you should know that. Your anger is a driving emotion here-- its what motivates you to fight your best, is it not? And your love for Bulma, also. I have experienced both these emotions myself, and I believe that a man is at his best when he can admit to them and use them to his advantage."  
  
"You are fool then," Vejita snapped. "I never thought that you would become soft like this."  
  
"It is not 'soft'. If you are so opposed to feeling, then perhaps you don't deserve this woman. I have heard many stories of her unsurpassable beauty-- she could no doubt find a man who is strong enough to admit to his real feelings." Valyn inwardly smiled, knowing that he was hitting home in Vejita.   
  
"She wouldn't dare!" Vejita snarled, turning on Valyn angrily. "If she had wanted a quivering, sonnet-spitting bastard in the first place then she would have never turned to me!"  
  
"She was under extreme distress and didn't have many other options at the time, did she? Who knows what she was thinking or what she really wants."  
  
Vejita was clearly fighting to keep his anger in check. His ki crackled with electricity that made the hairs on Valyn's arms rise. "You miserable little motherfucker... if I wanted to hear such ignorant statements, I would have simply sent for Magdalene!"  
  
Valyn chuckled and held up his hands in defense. "Calm yourself, Vejita, I was merely testing you." At the other man's indignant confusion, he began to explain. "You see, if you were not harboring some strong emotion for the girl, then you would hardly care what was said about her."  
  
Vejita at first looked ready to throttle Valyn, then after a moment he suppressed the urge and went back to the window, where he paced restlessly. "Remind me of why I invited your ass to come here, please."  
  
A smile tugged at the corners of Valyn's lips. "Because you knew that I would tell you the truth, no matter how many times you threaten to kill me. And also so that I could bail you out of this war if you needed it, you pompous asshole."  
  
Vejita attempted a smirk, but amusement was not coming easily to him. Valyn noticed and frowned as well.  
  
"Are you certain that you are alright? Perhaps you should get some more sleep."  
  
"This is as good as its going to get. Don't push it."  
  
Valyn's expression showed some concern. "What are you worrying about? What could possibly go wrong? We've got this war in the bag, I had thought."  
  
Vejita was silent for a long while, and just when Valyn was beginning to think that he wasn't going to answer, the king let loose a flurry of concerns. "What if we find her, and she's gone back into her damned shell? What if she doesn't even remember all that has happened? And what if, Kami forbid, Yamcha has fucking killed her already out of jealousy? How the hell am I supposed to even know if she's still alive and breathing, hm? If you can't give me those answers, then you might as well leave. I'm sick of hearing all of this hopeful bullshit, with no logic behind it!"  
  
The package was heavy in Valyn's hands, as if it had a life of its own and it was beckoning for him to reveal it. The man found this extremely ironic, because in a way, it did possess life. "I don't fault you for your worries, Vejita-sama. I understand them perfectly, and I think that I have a way to put your mind at rest."  
  
Vejita looked doubtful. "You want to help me torture Bardock and Kakkarott?"  
  
Valyn stood and approached him, shaking his head. "No, something better, if thats at all possible." He turned the package in his hands and regarded Vejita seriously. "This is something that was once very important to my people. It looks like an ordinary piece of glass, but its really something quite special. You see, once upon a time-" This earned small, tight smirk from Vejita. "My father pined after a noblewoman whom he believed he could never have. She ignored him and brushed aside his advances. This woman was eventually to become my mother."  
  
"What did he do, hit her over the head with it and give her amnesia?"  
  
Valyn dismissed the mocking comment. "No. He used it to see where she was at all times, and in doing this he learned that her father had secretly arranged her to marry another. Of course, my father didn't want this to happen, so he hunted the man down and well, killed him. But romantic contradictions aside, the bottom line is..." He stared down at the package. "If you really wish to see what has happened to your Bulma, then use this. It is a gift from my people to you."  
  
Vejita took the offered package, took out the normal-looking piece of glass, and examined it skeptically. "And how, exactly, does this thing work?"  
  
"No one quite knows for sure. It was found long before my father's time, by his ancestors. The story has been long forgotten, as was the instrument itself. I suppose you could call it a royal secret. I do know, however, that if you want to see her bad enough, it will happen. Some claim that in seeing the image of a person you care for, you can change what will happen in the future. It sounds like an exact science, though."  
  
Vejita looked down at the harmless-looking piece of glass, his brows furrowed, while Valyn looked on. At first, the glass appeared clear and normal, but after a few moments, its appearance began to change. A smoky image began to take shape in the glass. It looked to be the outline of a palace-- most likely Earth's palace-- but it kept on changing. The palace changed into a hallway, then to a single room. On the bed in the center of the room was a small shape, curled up and turned towards the window.  
  
Vejita started when he recognized the form to be that of Bulma. She lay silently on her side, her red-rimmed blue eyes staring blindly out to the sky. Her skin was abnormally pale, and her long hair was unkempt and half-pinned up. She wore an uncomfortable-looking corset and skirt, and nothing else. She had lost weight since he had last seen her, and looked to be a shadow of her former self. The image tugged at his formerly nonexistent heart-strings. To add to his pain, more bruises had been added to her frail body, most obviously one that marred the once-perfect image of her face. In pain, he was forced to look away.  
  
Valyn looked down at the glass, but could not see a thing. It was obvious, however, that Vejita saw what he had been looking for, and it was worse than he had expected. In vain, he put a comforting hand on the prince's shoulder.   
  
"Don't let it make you lose your focus, Vejita," he advised. "You have to keep your wits about you--"  
  
"Shut up!" Vejita exclaimed suddenly, pushing his friend's hand away violently. Then, to Valyn's anger and surprise, he took the glass and shattered it upon the floor of the ship.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Valyn demanded, bending down to salvage what pieces he could. "That was a priceless gift from my people!"  
  
Vejita glared down at the shards, his face stony and emotionless. "I do not need your scrying tool. I make my own destiny."  
  
It was at this point when Valyn realized that the 'one-sided' war was being orchestrated by a jealous human and an irrational, borderline-psychotic Super-Saiyan.  
  
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Elsewhere on the ship, a former queen and an eager third-class woman sat in their designated room, staring forlornly out the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up half the space. The silence that had fallen over the room since they had taken off was heavy around them.  
  
Magdalene, suffering from limited exposure to anyone since the takeover, could not bear it any longer. She broke the silence. "What are you thinking of right now, dear?"  
  
Chichi fingered the delicate cloth of her royal handmaiden's garb absently, admiring the quality that her family had never been able to match. She was thinking, not surprisingly, of Kakkarott. What would he do when he found out that she had made her way to Earth with him, pregnant and vulnerable? He was usually a mild-mannered person, but above all he was still a Saiyan warrior. Would he send her back?  
  
"Kakkarott," she finally admitted. "I wish that I knew how he's going to react."  
  
Magdalene dismissed the younger woman's worries with a wave of her dark-skinned hand. "I wouldn't worry about that. In all the years I've known him, I've never seen him do anything drastic. I would wager that he'll be relieved to have you here and accounted for. When you're here, he can at least try to protect you." She averted her uniquely-colored green eyes. "Be thankful that you have him."  
  
"I am thankful," Chichi assured her. She normally took quite some time to warm to strangers, but there was something about the fiercely beautiful Saiyan queen that put her at ease immediately. She seemed like more of a loving grandmother than a commander of the Saiyan empire and the mother of the vindictive Vejita. She couldn't even imagine taking her normally high temper out on such a woman. It was a rare queen who would allow a commoner to accompany her just for the sake of following a mate. "He is basically securing my future. Without him, I would be stuck in the third-class slums for the rest of my life. There isn't much room for mobility there."  
  
"I mean that you should be thankful that he supports and loves you with all of his heart," Magdalene corrected quietly. "That is something that few Saiyan couples have."  
  
Chichi thought for a moment, then voiced the question that she was sure was in the back of all their minds. "How do you think Bulma and Prince-- er, King-- Vejita's relationship will be?"  
  
The other woman sighed. "Kami knows how many times I've asked myself the same question." Thoughtfully, she went to the window. From there, she had a clear view of the windows to the control room at the front of the ship, where Vejita was probably lurking. Frowning, she closed the curtains, hiding her chambers from view. "All that I know is that there are real feelings between them. Even if their relationship doesn't work out, I would be satisfied, because at least Bulma would be free from Yamcha."  
  
"I have heard much about them since they left," Chichi said. "I wasn't sure what to believe."  
  
"All of the stories are undoubtedly true," Magdalene said with a wry smile. "That girl was endured far more than any one woman should have to. I just hope that she'll be able to hold on until we can get to her."  
  
"I saw her once." Chichi's eyes clouded over in memory. "When Kakkarott brought her through the city. I wasn't as hospitable as I could have been." At Magdalene's puzzled glance, she smiled. "I was more than a little bit jealous, I have to admit. She was so beautiful and well-spoken. I figured that Kakkarott would never be able to look at me the same after spending so much time with her."  
  
Magdalene was sympathetic. "There is no need to worry about that, darling. Bulma and Kakkarott are from two different worlds. Their relationship never will go beyond friendship, and if it ever does, I pity the man. Vejita does not like to share."  
  
The women shared in a laugh, and Chichi was grateful that she had had a chance to meet the monarch. Until now, she had characterized all royalty as snobs and basically uncaring people. But Magdalene was turning out to be one of the most sensitive people she knew. It was easy for her to see now why Kakkarott spent so much time at the palace.  
  
Unexpectedly, a knock sounded on Magdalene's door. The queen ceased laughing immediately and approached. Chichi sensed that her hopes that it would be her son, ready to mend the rift between them.  
  
"Who is it?" the queen called.  
  
"Bardock, Your Majesty, and Kakkarott."  
  
Magdalene turned to Chichi, whose eyes had gone wide. "If you do not wish to be seen yet, I suggest that you conceal yourself. Hurry!"  
  
Chichi glanced around for a hiding spot. Then, it came to her. "I could no sooner hide from Kami himself," she reminded the other woman forlornly. "He will sense me from the moment he enters. We are mated."  
  
"Are you alright in there?" called Bardock through the door. "Magdalene?"  
  
"I'm quite fine, thank you," she replied, opening the door slowly. "I was merely conversing with my handmaiden."  
  
Bardock entered the room, followed by Kakkarott. "Handmaiden? Do you think it wise to have an outsider overhear our conversation?"  
  
Magdalene half-smiled and let them come into the main room, where Chichi was perched on the bed, her chin lifted stubbornly. "She's hardly an outsider, Bardock."  
  
Kakkarott and Chichi's eyes met, and the Saiyan man's jaw dropped. "Chichi? What... why are you here? You're pregnant, you should be where it's safe--"  
  
"I should be wherever I want to be," Chichi cut him off sternly. "The point is, I'm here now, and there's no way to reverse it."  
  
"Chichi..." Kakkarott trailed off uncertainly, glancing over at Magdalene and Bardock, who listened with interest. "Would you guys mind if we had a minute alone?"  
  
Magdalene nodded, smiling in satisfaction. Chichi was a strong woman-- if she wanted to remain here, then there was nothing that Kakkarott could do about it. Pleased with the outcome, she took the shocked Bardock by the arm and left the main room. Now in the kitchen, safely out of earshot, she broke into a larger grin and chuckled.  
  
"They are so sweet," she commented to Bardock. "It makes me feel better knowing that at least one of the couples around here will have a happy relationship."  
  
"It was extremely unwise of you to bring her along, Your Majesty," the man scolded. "She will be nothing but a distraction to him when he gets into battle--"  
  
  
  
"Horseshit," Magdalene scoffed, pouring herself a glass of wine. "Love is not a weakness, unlike what all of you insensitive warriors think. It will only help him to fight better, because now he has something to protect. This is Vejita's fight, not his. It will do him good to get some motivation."  
  
"Speaking of Vejita," Bardock began with a sigh. "He was speaking with Valyn earlier in the control room, and after I heard the shattering of glass, I stopped to see what was going on. I didn't enter the room with them, but a few moments later Valyn stormed out. It looks like our beloved king is severing all the ties with those he is going to need most."  
  
Magdalene rolled her eyes at her son's predictability. "Valyn and Vejita have been friends their entire lives, Bardock. There isn't a number large enough to acccount for how many fights they've gotten in. They will make amends, believe me."  
  
"I don't know that it will be that easy, considering the situation."  
  
"Valyn is still thinking clearly, even if Vejita is not. He is far too intelligent to withdraw his support now. He'll go to Vejita later, and apologize. Trust me on this one." She glanced over to the main room curiously. "Do you suppose they're finished yet?"  
  
Bardock shrugged. His mind was clearly on other things. "I really came here to tell you that we will be arriving at Earth in two hours. Have you heard anything of the battle plans yet?"  
  
Magdalene's eyes lit up with interest. "Only bits and pieces. Please, enlighten me."  
  
"Our arrival is timed so that when we arrive on Earth, it will be night. Vejita is sending small groups of men to the largest cities, where the armies are no doubt stationed. The soldiers will use the moon to transform to Oozaru, and then do whatever damage they can. Their main goal is to deplete the armies, though."  
  
"And how are we going to be sure that Yamcha will not detect us on his radar and shoot the smaller ships out of the sky before any of this even occurs?"  
  
Bardock smiled. "That is where Valyn and his Malydorian technology come in. He has equipped all of our ships with a clever shielding device that hides us from the human radar systems. Anyway, with any luck, by the time the soldiers dispose of the majority of the armies, it will be almost dawn, and then it will be time to move in on the capital, where the palace is located."  
  
"I would guess that Vejita will only fight there."  
  
"Correct," Bardock replied. "He and his best men will attack in broad daylight. Yamcha will keep most of his army there, to protect himself, but Vejita does not seem concerned. Valyn has also provided a device that the men will put on their armor that is designed to better their endurance, therefore allowing them to keep up their ki's longer. The humans cannot even hope to defeat us then. Even their guns cannot pierce a Saiyan's ki when he's at even half-strength. It will be a one-sided battle, I am sure."  
  
Magdalene was not so certain. "It may start out that way, but when it comes to retrieving Bulma, I'm sure that Yamcha will not make it so easy."  
  
"One cannot even begin to guess at what he'll do," Bardock agreed. "Once Vejita has gotten the majority of the army out of the way, he will move in on the palace, with only himself, Kakkarott, Nappa, and Radditz. As for myself... he has assigned me to keep Yamcha's men away from the palace while he's trying to get Bulma. He has no desire to keep me close to the heart of the battle." The man's voice was bitter. "I suppose its the price I must pay for going against him."  
  
Magdalene gave him a grateful smile, then looked thoughtful. "And what am I to do, sit here and knit while they go and see all the action?" At Bardock's surprised expression, she could not help but laugh. "In all the years that you have known me, Bardock, have I ever liked to be left out?"  
  
"I suppose not," he consented. "But how would you work into all of this? You cannot fight alongside the men, for sure."  
  
"I do not plan to," Magdalene assured him. "I just want to be there when they find Bulma. Who knows what condition the poor girl will be in? I hardly trust a bunch of brutes to take care of her while Vejita and Yamcha fight."  
  
"How do you plan to achieve this?"  
  
Magdalene smirked, revealing the resemblence between herself and Vejita. "That is my little secret. I can't give all the surprise away, now can I?"  
  
"What surprise?" Kakkarott asked as he entered the room with Chichi close behind.  
  
"Nevermind," Magdalene dismissed breezily. "So, what have you two decided?"  
  
Kakkarott took Chichi's hand and embraced her gently. "She will stay here, on the ship, until the fighting is done. She says that she wants to--"  
  
Chichi interuppted him. "For Kami's sake, Kakkarott, I can speak for myself!" Magdalene and Bardock laughed, and Kakkarott scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I want to be there when they bring Bulma back to the ship." Then, with a mischevious smile, "I don't believe the stories of Vejita-sama's fondness for her a bit. I have to see him with her for myself before I believe something far-fetched like that."  
  
The group laughed together in the last moment of peace before the war began.  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
******   
  
(A/N): That was the last filler chapter before all the good, bloody stuff starts happening! Sorry if I have been boring you, but I feel that the feelings up to the start of the war are pretty important, too. Also, a little bird told me that a lot of you readers have been reading all along, but have never once reviewed...   
  
*Surveys the crowd of readers suspiciously* Hmm... how could I have missed this? *The crowd shrinks down and begins to leave* Hey, come back, you! *Shines a flashlight over them, searching for the non-reviewers* Come out, come out, wherever you are... *Hears a quiet shuffling noise behind her. Spins around triumphantly* A-HA! *No one is there. The readers have escaped... once again* Dammit.  
  
PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE review and let me know what you think. Ja ne!  
  
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	32. Part Four: 32

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________________________~*Part Four*~: War  
  
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The night before the attacks was a fairly peaceful one, as Earth in war-preparation went. The palace was quiet, since all of the nobles not fighting had retreated to their country manors, and the city below was near to deserted, save for the immediate area around the palace, where the armies were camped. In the other major cities of the world, the situation was much the same. The armies gathered together in the center of the cities, waiting for an enemy that was the stuff of nightmares and legends.  
  
Of all the places on Earth, it was the royal wing of the palace that held the most activity. In Yamcha's throne room, advisors and generals as well as the king himself gathered together, discussing last-minute war plans over large goblets of wine. They had received the news that the Saiyans would arrive the next day that morning, and the foreboding feeling that had been in the air before was near close enough to suffocate them now.   
  
They had formed a basic defensive plan, but Yamcha could not help but feel that it was fatally inadequate. Despite the long, extra hours they had been spending poring over their plans, none of the men could find just what was lacking. Jokingly, it had been suggested that what they were missing was a solid retreat plan, but such talk had been hastily stopped by Yamcha, whose brown eyes smoldered in quiet anger. He would not be made a fool by Vejita, if it was the last thing he did. So they went back to work, planning their war against the most war-savvy empire in the universe.  
  
Lady Briefs was one of the few nobles who had remained in the palace, for several reasons. The first was because her daughter was still there. Though her mangled, jealous heart felt nothing approaching compassion for the girl, she still felt the need to be there to see what became of her when the war descended. Call it curiosity. The second reason for her presence was that she wanted to be there just in case a last minute stroke of 'luck' was needed. Beneath the folds of her stylish dress had been sewn a place to store a rather large dagger. Annoyingly unladylike, she knew, but even a noblewoman such as herself had to make a few exceptions. She had learned early in life that in order to get something done right, you had to do it yourself, and if need be, she would do it willingly. And the third, most frivolous reason for her remaining in harm's way was because of the Saiyan King. She wanted to see for herself the man that had convinced Bulma to risk the wrath of her abusive husband and the safety of all her people. She sat in her chambers now, soaking in a bath sprinkled with rose petals and scented oils. Despite the obvious dangers, there was no fear beneath her icy exterior.  
  
  
  
Bulma had been left in she and Yamcha's chambers, momentarily forgotten by Yamcha in the midst of all the last-minute planning. She had been laying on their bed, staring out the window to nowhere, when she felt an odd sensation come over her. It was similar to the feeling of 'a goose walking over your grave', but different. Real. It felt like someone was watching her, silently willing her to do something.  
  
Or maybe not so silently. In the silence of the room, Bulma was unexplainably jolted out of her reverie by the sounds of a harsh, frustrated voice whispering in her ear.   
  
Get up, it willed her. What the hell is the matter with you?  
  
The human queen tried to sit up hazily, but did not succeed. The aching pain that had been consuming her body returned, and she winced as it momentarily rocked her world.  
  
Get up, woman.  
  
Blue eyes cleared suddenly at the recognition of Vejita's trademark name for every member of the female sex. Then, just as her mind was beginning to become aware once again, the faint sound of glass shattering could be heard, and all traces of the voice were gone. Bulma felt the familiar desolation crawl back into her heart, and she closed her eyes.  
  
Little did Vejita know, he had forfeited his chance to bring his mate back into reality.  
  
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Magdalene was entertaining the small group of Saiyans with one of her trademark, witty stories when the telecommunicator screen in the corner of her room switched on, revealing the rather irritated face of her son. When he took note of all the people present, his expression turned downright angry.  
  
"Well, aren't we all having fun?" He signaled to someone behind him, and the sounds of computers being activated could be heard. "I hate to interuppt your conversation with such a trivial matter, but we are just outside Earth's atmosphere right now. If that is even of concern to you, that is."  
  
Magdalene rolled her eyes. "Spare us your sarcasm, Vejita. Get to the point."  
  
Black eyes narrowed, but the new king cut the smart comments. "We need all officers to report to the control room, even the less-than-loyal ones." Pointed looks were shot into the men's direction. "I expect you here in less than a five minutes. We must strike before dawn."  
  
"Yes, Vejita-sama," Bardock consented with a stiff bow. "We shall be there shortly."  
  
"You had better." The screen went black once again, and there was a collective sigh of relief.  
  
"I was afraid that he was going to order us killed, the evil bastard," Chichi muttered, earning looks of surprise and amusement from her companions. "What? I wouldn't put it past him, especially considering his opinion of us right now."  
  
Kakkarott gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. "I wouldn't worry about that, Chi. Vejita may be kind of scary sometimes, but I don't think that he would harm one of his own, especially now."  
  
"He's right, dear," Magdalene agreed. "Though with the way he's been acting lately..."  
  
Bardock sighed, and got to his feet. "Come on, Kakkarott. Its time to fight."  
  
Kakkarott nodded, then turned to his mate. His gentle brown eyes were shining with fondness. "I have to leave you now, Chichi, I'm sorry." His cheeks reddened, and he leaned over to kiss her. "Take care of yourself and the baby. I'll be back soon, I promise. I love you."  
  
Chichi watched him get up with sad eyes. "I love you, too," she told him, her voice quiet and suspiciously weak. "And don't get yourself killed, you big blockhead!"  
  
"I won't," Kakkarott assured her with his usual bright smile, somewhat dimmer than usual. "Don't worry about me."  
  
Before they left, Magdalene stopped them with a wave of her hand. Her green eyes were solemn. "Remember, you two, Vejita may be the ultimate authority, but if he orders you to do something... untoward... listen to your heart. In the end, its all that you have."  
  
Bardock said nothing, and exited the room. Magdalene's heart ached for the older man. Vejita had not made it easy for him at all. Kakkarott waved one last time, then followed his father away. As soon as he disappeared, Chichi turned away, muffling a sob with her hands. The former Saiyan Queen did not move to console her, but instead sat down on the bed, staring hopelessly down at the floor. It was far too late for kind words and sympathetic gestures.  
  
In the hallway, Kakkarott and Bardock made their way silently to the control room. Kakkarott hadn't even left the ship yet, and already he missed his mate with all of his naive heart. He had planned to leave her back on Vejitasei, where it was safe, and remove her from his mind until his task was done, but that was impossible now. The stubborn woman had followed him here, in typical Chichi-fashion. He should have known that she wouldn't be shoved aside that easily. He smiled to himself.  
  
Bardock, however, was not so amused. Now that Chichi had placed herself on the ship, right in harm's way, he not only had himself and his two sons to think about, but his soon to be daughter-in-law and unborn grandchild. The weight of what seemed like two worlds was upon his aging shoulders.  
  
The doors to the control room were guarded. When the two men approached, the guards opened the doors and allowed them entry. Rather than gather the entire collected army in one room (which would be quite impossible), Vejita had instead only invited the highest-ranking officers.  
  
Nappa and Radditz looked up from the war plans and maps of Earth they were studying when the other two men entered, but Vejita, Turles, Valyn, and the several other men did not. They moved aside to allow Bardock and Kakkarott a view of the papers without a word.  
  
"I think that attacking the capital first would be the best course of action," Valyn was advising the new king. Bardock noted that there seemed to be an uncomfortable feeling in the air between the two childhood friends, and this did not bode well for the war ahead. Shaking his head, he sent a prayer to Kami begging for his protection. "It will take care of the strongest armies."  
  
"No," Vejita said firmly, looking especially menacing in his dark battle armor and burgundy cape. "The capital is last to go. I want that cowardly bastard to suffer for a little while before I come for his blood."  
  
"Yamcha won't be the only one suffering while you're playing around," Bardock reminded him sharply. "Bulma could be dead already, for all that you know. What if, in the intervening time, Yamcha decides to use her against you and dispose of her?"  
  
Black eyes glinted dangerously. "If she were dead, I would know it. We're attacking the city of Broville first, in two hours. Nappa, take Radditz and prepare the soldiers for battle. Immediately destroy the city when you arrive. I want to be able to see the damned flames from here, do you understand?"  
  
Nappa and Radditz nodded, bowed, and turned to leave, their faces glowing with anticipation of their favorite activity-- battle.   
  
"Wait," Vejita called after them. He frowned and shot a pointed look in Bardock and Kakkarott's direction. "Remember, we take no prisoners."  
  
Bardock's jaw muscles ground together, the only proof of his smoldering anger. Vejita was turning this war into a free-for-all. He was losing all reason (whatever reason he had previously possessed, anyway), in favor of a bloodbath. It wasn't necessary for victory, nor was it honorable. Bardock didn't like it one bit. "Is that such a good idea, Your Highness?" he asked quietly. "Perhaps some of the officers will know of Bulma and the situation at the palace. We could gain some valuable knowledge of their battle plans from a hostage."  
  
Across the table, Turles and Valyn looked up inconspicuously to catch Vejita's reaction. Bardock was somewhat glad that Valyn and Vejita had not made their peace yet. Perhaps the bloodthirsty Malydorian could still be moved over to the side of logic-- Magdalene's side.  
  
"I doubt that Yamcha's planned what he's going to do with his ass two hours from now, let alone plan an entire war," Vejita retorted nonchalantly, his gravelly voice impatient. "His nonexistent war plans cease to worry me."  
  
"Vejita," Valyn protested. "If it turns out that you are underestimating the humans' prowess, we could end up in a very unfortunate situation."  
  
Kakkarott nodded. "For once, me and Valyn are in total agreement."  
  
Vejita knuckles went white as he gripped the table. "Fine," he snarled. "We'll take no more than a couple hostages-- officers only. After we beat whatever useless information they have out of them, I'll allow their captors the privilege of slaughtering them."  
  
This wasn't the reaction that Bardock had intended, but it was as good as it was going to get. This is war, he reminded himself. Extra precautions had to be taken, or else the human captives could try to pull something clever. He shook his head at his shifting conscience-- he couldn't even clearly define whose side he was on anymore. Beside him, Kakkarott sighed, apparently as frustrated as his father.  
  
"You two will be standing guard at the palace when we invade the capital instead of engaging in battle, so I'm going to be generous--" Vejita said the word like it felt dirty in his mouth. "and allow you to fight tonight. You will fight alongside your fellow third-class soldiers, like the filth that you are. Follow all of Nappa and Radditz's orders. Understood?"  
  
"Are we just attacking one city tonight?" Kakkarott asked, appearing confused. "Because I don't think that we can hold our Oozaru form for more than two or three cities."  
  
Vejita rolled his eyes, as did Valyn beside him. "Malydor has provided some devices that will increase your endurance. You will attack the five major cities of the planet, and whatever else besides the capital that you can until dawn. When the sun comes up, you will return to your normal form and follow Nappa and Radditz's directions. Depending on the situation, you will either camp on Earth or come back to the ship. Do you understand now, you impossible dumbass, or shall I have to go over it a fifth time?!"  
  
"I'm sorry, Vejita-sama," Kakkarott said quietly. "I was just hoping that I might be able to come back to the ship so that--" He cut himself off just in time. Bardock exhaled in relief. With the way that Vejita was acting now, there was no telling what could happen if he found out that Chichi was there among them. "So that I can get a good night's sleep."  
  
Vejita raised a dark eyebrow. "What? Are you afraid of the dark, Kakkarott?"  
  
"No, not at all," the other man assured him nervously. "I just don't like sleeping in camps."  
  
"Well then I suppose that you'll just have to suffer with the rest of your kind, won't you?" Vejita's glare remained fixed on Kakkarott for a moment more before returning to the papers on the table. "You are both dismissed. Hurry up and join the rest of the soldiers. You'll need to get the ki-enhancing device from Radditz."  
  
The two men exited the room silently. Turles followed them with his eyes all the way out. When they were safely out of earshot, he turned to Vejita, looking a little annoyed.   
  
"Was all of that really necessary?" he demanded.  
  
"Yes," Vejita replied simply. "They have to learn who the hell's in charge around here. I'm sick of Bardock and his followers trying to undermine my authority. He's been doing this ever since I grew old enough to take advantage of my royal power, and I won't stand for it anymore. All that I can hope for is that he gets killed by some random miracle."  
  
"This is ridiculous," Valyn cut in suddenly. "We cannot expect to win anything when we are divided like this. Its past time to call a truce."  
  
"But I thought that I ruined your precious scrying glass," Vejita pointed out sarcastically. "Kami forbid you ally yourself any further with the tyrant who destroyed your cute little artifact."  
  
Valyn did not meet Vejita's eyes. "We have our differences, yes, and I do think that you are being excessively callous, but I see no other choice but to cease our arguing. I came here to fight a war against the humans, not against you."  
  
A transparent-skinned hand was extended, and after a moment, shaken by Vejita's gloved one. Turles, who had been holding his breath without even realizing it, sighed.  
  
"We've known each other for far too long to fight like this," Valyn commented with a lopsided grin. Vejita did not notice, however, that while his expression suggested otherwise, Valyn's eyes lacked enthusiasm. Turles noticed and filed the little fact into his head for later examination. "And we're certainly more mature than that... or at least, I am."  
  
Vejita smirked, sending a cold chill up Turles' spine. "So it is resolved. Let the killing begin."  
  
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"Hurry up!" Gwen chided between breathy giggles. "Before someone finds us!"  
  
Behind her, a male vaulted over the fence that marked the outskirts of the great city of Broville, equally breathless and a little red in the face at the idea that his girlfriend was more athletic than he. "I'm coming, I'm coming! I had a heavy dinner, alright?"  
  
Gwen laughed at his predictability and continued jogging to their secret place-- a small clearing in the nearby woods, where they had shared their first kiss, countless picnics, and had first made love. Their relationship had always been a perfectly romantic one, though with reversed roles. Gwen, blond-haired with an impish smile and a bold personality, could easily boss the quieter Mark around. Mark, with his boyish good looks and chubby appearance, had at first been terrified of Gwen. She had made the first move, and he had jumped at the chance to be with the prettiest girl in his side of the city.  
  
"I can't believe that we're not even allowed to go outside the city anymore," Gwen complained when Mark caught up to her. Their hands found each other with the ease of long practice. They were going to spend the rest of their lives together, Gwen knew. Little did she know how short a time that would turn out to be. "I mean, how can they even really be sure that these aliens are going to attack us?"  
  
"I heard that King Yamcha has some pretty unbelievable tracking systems," Mark said. "But I've also heard lots of stories about how much the Saiyans like war."  
  
They reached their spot, and Gwen found that she couldn't care less about the impending danger. Not now. She wrinkled her small nose. "I think it to be pretty ridiculous to go to war over just one woman, even if she is a queen."  
  
Mark has his own private thoughts about the worth of his beautiful queen, but he did not share them with his lover. He had caught a glimpse of Bulma once, and found her unnaturally perfect looks to be far too intimidating for a shy man like himself. As far as he was concerned, the bloodthirsty foreign king could have her. All he needed was Gwen, with her face-full of freckles and wicked sense of humor.  
  
"Come sit closer," the human girl challenged him, her smile large and watery-blue eyes glowing. "I've got something to show you..."  
  
Mark shared her grin and took his place beside her. The boldest woman he knew took his hand in her own and guided it to the small of her back. Mark leaned in to kiss her, and felt proud that he was at least brave enough to do that. Experiencing heady feelings of love and lust, the two humans consummated their relationship for the last time.  
  
Above them, slowly descending on the city, were a group of Saiyan space pods, equipped with Malydorian technology that kept them invisible to virtually all radars. While the soldiers below slept, and the guards put on post weren't far from it, they made their grand entrance, aided by the transforming powers of the moon.  
  
From the woods on the edges of the city, Gwen and Mark's lovemaking was interuppted by the sounds of explosions and gunfire. Immediately they sat up, confused, glancing in the direction of their home city. The flames that engulfed part of the metropolis were visible even above the treetops, and pierced the darkness with their fierce orange light. But even more disturbing than their city in flames were the inhuman creatures that had apparently triggered the destruction.   
  
In the midst of all the madness stood multiple overgrown apes. They wore foreign battle armor branded with a crimson, black, and gold symbol that the two humans had seen only once in their lives, in a history class that hardly anyone could remember. The seal of the Royal House of Vejitasei.  
  
"Sweet Kami!" Gwen exclaimed as she shot to her feet, Mark right beside her. Her blue eyes were comically wide in her skinny face, and her freckles stood out against her blanched skin more than ever. "I can't believe its really happening..."  
  
"You'd better begin believing it," Mark said from beside her. "We've got to get out of here!"  
  
Desperately he took her arm and attempted to lead her farther into the woods, away from the destruction and death, but she resisted. Mark stopped and turned to her, his eyes frightened.  
  
"What are you doing?! They'll come for us soon enough-- we've got to get as far away as we can! They take no prisoners, Gwenny, remember?"  
  
Gwen stood and stared at the city, seemingly transfixed. Tears streamed from her eyes. "We can't just run away and leave our families to die!" she insisted. "I'm going back to bring them with us!"  
  
Mark could only stand there helplessly as his girlfriend tore off back in the direction of the city. After a moment's hesitation, he hardened his resolve and followed her. When he hopped the fence back into the city, however, he wished that he had just left her to her foolish hopes of rescue.  
  
Not only were there the large apes that had be dealt with, in the center of the city and in the army camps, but the Saiyans had also dispersed themselves among the city streets, fighting and killing with impossible speed and strength. They looked humanoid expect for the temporarily red, excited eyes and swinging brown tails. Mark realized that these tails must have been what allowed them to transform, but wasn't able to think much more before they descended upon him.  
  
"Hello there," one of them teased in a deep, accented voice. "A bit disheveled, are we? You must have come by with that cute little girl who tore past here just a few moments ago."  
  
Mark, hypnotized by the man's teasingly warm voice and the mention of Gwen, looked hopeful. "Gwen? Where is she? What have you done with her?"  
  
"Oh, she's here," the Saiyan replied. "Would you like to say hello?"  
  
Mark nodded.  
  
From behind his back, the Saiyan withdrew his hand, and the severed head of Gwen. Her eyes were still wide as saucers, and her face was permanently twisted into an expression of fear and pain. Mark began to tremble violently, and started to back away from the murderer with the soothing deep voice.  
  
"Where are you going?" the man asked, his expression mockingly hurt. Rivulets of blood from Gwen's head dripped onto the street below. The red rivers slowly pooled in Mark's direction. "Don't you want to join our little party? Your little girlfriend and I have such fun planned for you!"  
  
Mark didn't even have time to turn around before the Saiyan grabbed him by the neck and snapped him in two, as easily as one would a twig. Disgusted, he tossed the carcass beside that of the human's lover, and brushed off his hands. Another Saiyan stepped away from the pile of corpses of his own making and patted his comrade on the back.  
  
"This is almost too easy, eh, Radditz?" he lamented. "When Vejita gave us all our orders, I had thought that these weaklings would at least put up a bit of a fight."  
  
Radditz nodded in agreement, then shot a pointed look in the past Mark's direction. The other soldier, Nappa, examined his friend's handiwork and grinned. "Well, at least they're gullible enough to provide a little bit of fun."  
  
The men shared a hearty laugh and then went back to the bloodshed.  
  
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Yamcha stormed into he and Bulma's room, followed by his own personal guard, his face transformed into an emotionless mask. The door slammed closed behind him, leaving an indent in the wall. The king didn't seem to notice.  
  
"Get your ass up!" he shouted in Bulma's direction, his hard eyes fixed on her motionless form on the bed. "The planet is under attack. We're going to a safer part of the palace."  
  
When Bulma did not respond, just sighed and shifted slightly beneath the covers, Yamcha growled and crossed the room to the bed. The guards tried not to stare and went about their business-- packing up the valuables in the room for safekeeping.  
  
"Did you not hear me correctly?" Yamcha shouted, right into the woman's ear. "Did that Saiyan monkey fuck your brains out or something?!"  
  
Bulma's eyelashes fluttered, then opened. Yamcha took an involuntary step back at the sight of the shockingly blue irises, then regained his composure. The queen's eyes had glazed over again, clouding their original color. She seemed to be recovering from a dream. "What... Vejita?"   
  
Yamcha's face fell in displeasure. "Yes, that's right-- Vejita. The bastard is burning my cities to the ground at this damned moment! Get up off the bed, we're going somewhere safer."  
  
Her face hardened for a moment, and it was clear that the last thing she wanted was to go with him. Then Yamcha took hold of her upper arms and shook her violently, and her resolve crumbled. Besides, her injuries still hurt too much to put up much of a protest. "Yes," she whispered. She would not meet her husband's eyes. "I'm coming."  
  
Yamcha looked stunned, then his lips curled into a smug smile. "I knew that you'd begin to see it my way. Come along, darling."  
  
Bulma allowed herself to be dragged along in her thin white nightdress-- hardly cover enough for a walk through the palace-- and tried to counter the pain with thoughts of Vejita's arrival. He had reached Earth; it was only a matter of time before he came for her, right?  
  
"You probably think that you'll be rescued soon enough, don't you?" Yamcha shook his head as he led her through the halls. "Well, I hate to let you down, but we've got some battle plans of our own. Vejita might be able to destroy most of the cities, but he'll never be able to capture you. Not when your life is on the line."  
  
Bulma was not surprised. Yamcha was above all other things a coward, and only a coward would resort to a dirty move like that. As they passed a window she was given a grisly visual of the burning cities in the distance, and took comfort in the towering black smoke that polluted the serene moonlight.  
  
"Your mother remained here at the palace-- can't imagine why," Yamcha continued bitterly. "She's probably here to be sure that I get rid of you. You're standing in her way, as she sees it. Ah well, I suppose she'll just have to lament your safety later, because there's no time for sitting around and pondering now."  
  
Her hopes fell when she heard this. Sure, Vejita was unbelieveably strong, but the combined coercion of Yamcha and Lady Briefs was far more daunting. She shuddered, imagining all of the nasty forms of torture her mother could employ.  
  
"Here we are," Yamcha announced in a singsong voice. "Our own little safehaven."  
  
She was pulled into a room, and when she discovered which room it was, irony coursed through her. "The church? This is sacred ground-- you cannot honestly intend to stage the final fight here."  
  
Yamcha took offense to her disgusted tone and slapped her smartly across the face. "I would have it no other way. You see, the way I look at it, if Kami truly existed, he would have killed himself anyway when he looked upon you coupling with that Saiyan monster. And if Kami doesn't exist anymore, then this is no longer sacred ground. Its quite alright to shed blood here."  
  
  
  
"There will be blood flowing," Bulma assured him quietly. The thought of Vejita's presence somewhere nearby had given here a tiny bit of determination. "But it will not be Vejita's."  
  
Yamcha favored her with a black look. "I really don't want to marr that lovely face any more with blows, Bulma. Don't give me another reason to strike you."  
  
  
  
"If reason is defined as protest at confinement, then you have plenty." Bulma's hands clenched her gown spastically, the only sign of her anxiousness.   
  
The human king's eyes narrowed into slits, and in a split second he had unsheathed the long dagger from his belt and delivered a strong blow to the side of Bulma's head with the blunt side. He stared down at her shaky figure, shoved to the ground by the force of the blow, and rested his foot on her ribcage. She winced in agony.  
  
"Do not get the idea of challenging me into your head," he hissed. "One of these days, it just might cost you your life." He then turned to leave. Before locking the doors behind him, he addressed her again. "I have a war to attend to. You'll stay in here for the time being. May your pathetic entity Kami comfort you!"   
  
The doors slammed shut with a resounding thud, and Bulma was left alone in the beautiful church. She would have gone to the windows to watch the events unfolding in the city below, but she lacked both the energy and the willpower.  
  
Yamcha had been right, she decided, because for the life of her she could not understand why Kami would allow such suffering to be bestowed upon a single person.  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
******   
  
(A/N): And so the bloodbath begins! Mwhahahhahahhaha! LOL, I think I've been watching too many bad movies... Whenever I'm not watching "Pirates of the Caribbean", that is. I just bought it, and DAYYYYYYYYYYYMMM, is Johnny Depp hot in that movie! *Drools*  
  
*Breaks out her non-reviewer-finding flashlight once again and shines it over the decreasing crowd* Gotcha! That's right-- YOU! *People scatter* Dammit. It worked last time! Perhaps you could consider indulging me once more and leaving me a comment or suggestion. ^_~ Come on now people, don't break my heart.  
  
Also, I'm the humble beta-reader for KamalaKali's new fic, "Darkness Swirling", and it would be really cool if you could check that fic out. She's got a very original and interesting idea. It makes me kick myself for not thinking of it first. -_-;; Oh well, you can't have all the luck. She's a great author and its a good read, I promise! Leave her a review, or else I'll be forced to buy HER a non-reviewer-finding flaslight  
  
PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE review and let me know what you think. Ja ne!  
  
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	33. Part Four: 33

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The messenger arrived at the meeting room of Vejita's ship just as he, Valyn, and Turles were concluding their additions to the plans. He had obviously been fighting alongside the other soldiers, for his armor was stained with bright blood, and he wore a positively happy grin on his dirty face.  
  
"Beggin' your pardon, Your Highness," he said after dropping a gracious bow. "I've come with news of the fightin' so far."  
  
Vejita already knew what was going on below. The flames could been seen with even the lowest-powered of his telescopes, and it had been a done deal anyway. For the sake of the entertainment of his friends, he motioned for the man to speak on.  
  
"It was great, sire, one of the best battles I've been in in a long while." The man gestured to the small stains on his armor. "Hardly any effort required to conquer, really-- but its been a good source of fun while we're at it."  
  
"Perhaps we should have purged this planet before," Vejita commented half-heartedly. His mind was clearly somewhere else. "What of the casualty rate?"  
  
"Nonexistent, Your Majesty," the man replied smugly. "Save for a few cuts and scrapes here and there, we trampled them without cost. General Nappa told me to tell you that he's having a grand time, even if he has to find fun for himself, seeing as you haven't presented him with a challenge."  
  
"We haven't even entered into real battle yet," Vejita corrected the man coldly. "The real challenge will come when we go after the capital. Yamcha has most of his armies there, and it will be heavily guarded and prepared for an attack at all hours of the night. Relay this message back to your general, and tell him this as well-- don't get too comfortable. You never know when your enemy will try and manipulate you." After a second of heavy silence, he spoke again. "You are dismissed."  
  
After the man strode out, Turles shook his head. "You sure know how to kill a good mood, Vejita."  
  
"Good morale is worthless," the king scoffed, leaning back into his chair with a heavy sigh. "The men have to keep their wits about them, and celebrating one pathetic victory will not do anything to serve the cause."  
  
"He's right," Valyn agreed, his expression equally serious. "The battle has proved to be easy so far-- almost too easy. I'm wondering if Yamcha is saving himself up for the final showdown. That is what worries me the most."  
  
"Bulma is defenseless in the castle, at Yamcha's mercy," Turles recalled, as if remembering the true reason for this war just now. To be truthful, he doubted that the majority of the soldiers even remembered. "You're right-- if I know Yamcha, that's what he's planning."  
  
Valyn studied the tight expression on Vejita's face and decided that a subject change was in order. "When the men are finished getting the major cities out of the way, what do you plan to do? Will you go down to the planet then?"  
  
Vejita nodded. "Yes. I'm not thick enough to leave Nappa in control of such an important mission. The dumbass would probably burn down the palace before he remembered what we are doing this for."  
  
"Can you feel any of her emotions as we grow closer?" Turles asked quietly. "Can you tell what she's doing right now? I've heard some pretty abstract stories about the bonds between mates before, and--"  
  
The king's black eyes and expression became guarded instantly, and the muscles in his arms twitched in frustration. "No. I can't feel a damned thing." He stood and stormed across the room, to the window. Below them, the Earth loomed. Somewhere down there, Vejita thought, Bulma was suffering. He didn't have to possess any form of telepathy to know that. He had been trying to block it from his mind, so that he could maintain control of his primal temper and Saiyan instincts, but it was becoming harder as they came closer. Feeling utterly helpless and impossibly impatient, Vejita rubbed his face with his hands, and kept them there. He could not understand the strong, almost consuming feelings he was experiencing over this whole ordeal.  
  
Valyn watched Vejita's gestures of helplessness, recognizable only by the closest of his friends, and his face fell. He knew exactly how Vejita was feeling-- after all, he too had a mate waiting for him, somewhere in the distance. And he couldn't even imagine what it would be like if it were her that was being threatened.   
  
Sympathetically, he motioned to Turles and the men left the room, leaving Vejita in solitude.  
  
Vejita didn't even notice their absence. He was envisioning the moment that he stepped off of his space pod and onto the fertile soil of Earth, just outside the capital. He would stroll through the carpet of bleeding bodies and up to the front steps of the palace, and there he would begin his hunt for Yamcha. Wherever the human king was, his fair wife would surely be. It was what Yamcha wanted, and it was also what Vejita wanted.  
  
Bulma would be injured no doubt, maybe even beaten into unconsciousness, but nonetheless, she would be able to recover. She would wake up and remain that bright-eyed, pale-skinned, impossibly weak yet still unavoidably attractive woman that he had met back on Vejitasei. Wishful thinking, the cynical voice in Vejita's head sneered. She might be emotionally scarred, even traumatized, and in the worst case scenario-- beyond the reach of anyone, even him. And if that were the case... Yamcha would pay.   
  
He was going to suffer and eventually die for his crimes already, but if Bulma was lost to the world, if she was beaten beyond recognition, if she was permanently damaged... Vejita's fists clenched, and his black eyes were tinged with red as he thought of the merciless rampage he would go on if that happened. If she didn't recover, he never would. Which was why it was vital that he not make even the smallest misstep-- everything had to be perfect.  
  
"Vejita?"  
  
He could hardly believe his ears. "What are you doing out of your chambers?!"  
  
Magdalene lifted her chin defiantly. She had entered the room quietly, slipping past Vejita's notice. Inconspicuously, a handmaiden stood behind her, hood drawn over her face. "I am here to strike a bargain with you. I think that I deserve an audience. I am, after all, your mother."  
  
Vejita surveyed her stubborn green eyes, and nodded. There would no dealing with her later if he refused. "Name your bargain."  
  
"I have been confined to this ship, to my chambers, for this entire ordeal, but..." Magdalene trailed off, leaving room for the compromise. "I wish to be allowed to accompany you on your attack of the capital. I can disguise myself as well as my maid as handmaidens of the queen, and can get contact with Bulma that you could not even hope to get. You could learn of her situation, of Yamcha's plans, even before you risk your life walking into a trap."  
  
"And what about the bargain part?" Vejita demanded. "As far as I can see, you are posing a request. What about the terms of the deal?"  
  
"I did not forget," Magdalene responded. "If you allow me this, I will yield control of the planet to you, even after the war."  
  
Vejita could not mask his surprise at her statement. He had not even thought about keeping control of the empire, but the idea was certainly appealing. In the back of his mind, he knew that this was his wily mother he was dealing with, not a fool, but his interest in the possibility overruled that small, shadowy doubt. "Done. Risk your neck if you want-- I can only gain from this deal."  
  
Magdalene beamed. "Thank you. I suppose that my confinement to my chambers is suspended then, as I have to look over the floor plan of the palace."  
  
Vejita smirked. "No, it is not. I'll send the plans to your chambers. I may be power-hungry, but I'm not entirely stupid. You're working an angle here, Magdalene, and I'm not about to let you run away with it." Then, he seemed to notice the handmaiden for the first time. "Who the hell is this? Why do you need a maid on this ship?"  
  
Magdalene faltered for only the slightest moment. "If you were familiar with the workings of a corset, or the work involved in preparing an updo, my son, then you would understand." She smiled. "Even I cannot be in solitude for so long. I would drive myself crazy. And besides, I learned from Bulma that it is customary on Earth for handmaidens to be assigned in pairs."  
  
  
  
Vejita had the feeling that she was still not telling him the entire truth, but was too spent to care. After all, the chit was just a handmaiden. "Whatever. Now leave me alone. If I see you out of your chambers again, I'll be forced to do away with your plans."  
  
The two women curtsied (Magdalene carefully masked her disgust) and left the room. When the doors had closed behind them, and they had passed out of range of the guards, Chichi burst out laughing.  
  
"He fell for it," she mused. "Without even a second thought!"  
  
Magdalene, however, was more solemn. "No, he didn't. He knows that I have ulterior motives. He is only allowing it because we may be his only outlet to Bulma. This was not just a way for me to get in on the action and check on her, understand. This is also an excellent and surprisingly accurate way for me to gauge just how desperate Vejita's getting as time wears on." She offered the other woman a conspiring smile. "Never accept anything at face value, my young friend."  
  
The women shared grim smiles, and then returned to the queen's chambers.  
  
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Far below them, on the dreary planet of Earth, the war was waging. Even in the new daylight, the Saiyans attacked. Though they were in their normal form, they had done the bulk of the damage during the night as Oozaru, so the few fighters left were hardly a challenge. Stragglers, mostly.  
  
Yamcha, much like Vejita, was saving his energy for the final battle. He was securely hidden away in the palace, surrounded by his guards and the generals of his armies. Their situation was grim-- the attack during the night and the unexpected transformation abilities of the Saiyans had formed together to give the war-loving race the early advantage.   
  
Despite this, Yamcha had made his decision. His main armies would do nothing to assist the other major cities. It wasn't as if his people had ever been important to him anyway. As far as he could tell, the damage had already been done, and sending soldiers to meet the Saiyans could be considered mass suicide. They would wait around the capital for the siege that Vejita would no doubt head up later. In the meantime, all that the impatient human could do was sit and wait, while his people were murdered, for the Saiyan king to make his move.  
  
Lady Briefs meandered through the halls (the ones that were secured by guards, that is), as if searching for some trouble to stir up. When she convienently ducked into the elaborate church, she found it.  
  
Bulma was sitting serenely on one of the front pews with her hands neatly folded in her lap and her thin nightgown arranged around her. Her posture was perfectly straight and still, just as Lady Briefs had taught her since childhood. Her eyes were locked on the altar and the stained glass windows behind it. When the noblewoman entered the room, and the sounds of her footsteps echoed throughout the large space, she did not make a move. Lady Briefs sat down on the same pew, her posture identical to that of her daughter's.  
  
"Yamcha told me that you stirred last night, when you were transported here," she said, her voice monotonous. "I find it quite suspicious that you should become aware only when it benefits you."  
  
The long eyelashes blinked against a pale cheek, and Bulma's sapphire eyes underneath were startingly clear. Lady Briefs had failed to notice this before. "Let us not argue in vain while in the house of the Lord."  
  
Lady Briefs was angered by the emotionless reaction she had received from the woman. She had been aiming to fire her up, not to inspire a tranquil reply. "Oh, spare me. It hardly makes a difference, with all of the blood being spilled just outside almost every other church on this planet."  
  
Bulma's jaw was set. She was curious about the occurences outside the heavy stone walls, but was restraining herself from indulging her mother's cruel fantasies. Lady Briefs wanted her to ask about the situation, so that was exactly what she was not going to do. Her decision not to show her inner pain and satisfy her enemies was hardening in resolve as her mind slowly creeped out of its reverie.  
  
"Did you come here simply for the pleasure of bothering me, mother?" she asked. "Or is there an important reason for you to be here?"  
  
"Hear me, child," her mother growled. "I don't know what you're thinking right now, and I really don't care, but let me straighten things out for you. Yamcha is keeping you alive so that he can parade you around before his generals, and to provide himself with some 'entertainment' during the low points of this war. If you have any false illusions about him keeping you safe and snug here in this church, then you had best drop them now. When your Saiyan King arrives here, Yamcha will put your life on the line, if only to provoke his enemy."  
  
Bulma's stomach turned at her words-- she knew what kind of 'entertainment' Yamcha preferred-- but outside her face was passive. "I've been assaulted by him before. I'm sure that I can endure for a little while longer."  
  
"Then you know not the brand of fun that your husband has come to enjoy lately." The foreboding words tasted sweet on the noblewoman's tongue. With a feminine sigh of boredom, she rose. Bulma's expectant eyes followed her. "But if you are truly that indifferent to your own torture, then I won't interfere. I'll leave you with this-- Yamcha can do nothing to you that he hasn't tried already, but others can."  
  
Bulma at first did not comprehend, but then she began to grasp the full meaning of her mother's parting words. Her eyes widened in terror, and she shot to her feet with an energy that she had possessed since leaving Vejitasei. One thought filled her mind-- escape now.  
  
She spun around frantically, searching for a way to get out of her sacred prison, but the doors that Lady Briefs had exited through were locked from the outside, and the stained glass windows were thick and far above the ground below. There was no way out; she was trapped.  
  
'Then you know not the brand of fun that your husband has come to enjoy lately... Yamcha can do nothing to you that he hasn't tried already, but others can...'  
  
Bulma's heart raced. With trembling legs and weak knees that threatened to give out, she carried her aching and bruised body over to the farthest corner of the church, behind the altar and up against the chilly surface of a stained glass window. She was curled up with her knees to her chest, bracing herself for the attack that was surely coming.  
  
Others can... The woman knew what Yamcha wanted to do to her; she hadn't lived with him for this long and learned nothing. He would come storming into the church, angry over the war happenings, and he would assault her in front of whatever cronies he had with him. He was a sick, twisted being who didn't even deserve to be called human, and she was sure that he would enjoy himself completely.   
  
  
  
She didn't have to wait long for him. He came barging through the doors in an hour's time, just when the sun was starting to set. The light filtered through the colored windows cast eerie shadows around the room, making it look like someone's nightmare-- no, Bulma's nightmare. He was followed by two men that she vaguely recognized-- Earth's top generals, probably reserved at the palace for Vejita's attack. They wore identical grins that put quaking fear into Bulma's heart.  
  
"Get up." Yamcha looked more agitated than Bulma had ever seen him as he strode towards her. Dark circles beneath his eyes made him look almost feral, and his hair stuck out at odd angles, like he had been running hands through it all day. The generals behind him waited expectantly. "I know you can here me, your mother said that you spoke to her! Get up!"  
  
She didn't know where the energy came from, but somehow Bulma made it to her feet. "What? What do you want?"  
  
The men cackled, and Yamcha joined in with them. The faint smell of alcohol floated over to Bulma's nose. "Only to spice things up around here! I was thinking of a way that I could keep my friends here entertained, and something just popped into my head. Can you imagine that?"  
  
"Leave," Bulma demanded feebly. She hadn't meant to sound so vulnerable. "Find entertainment elsewhere. There is no to be had here."  
  
One of the men stepped closer, rubbing his hands together anxiously. "Oh, to the contrary, Your Highness. You see, your husband here promised that I could have a go with you, and--"  
  
"Hey, you don't get all the fun!" the other man interuppted. "Don't tell me that I skipped dinner for nothing."  
  
Yamcha gestured for them to be silent. "Don't worry, boys, there's plenty to go around. Did you know that sometimes, she lasts all night? All night-- without breaking a sweat!"  
  
Bulma would have tried to run, but she had nowhere to go. The three laughing men were blocking her escape. Yamcha caught her look of distress and smirked-- a very different smirk than the one that she had seen Vejita wear countless times.  
  
"Don't worry, dear, this won't take long." He quickly grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards him. The other men stepped closer.  
  
"No!" she screamed, her voice hoarse with tears that she had denied herself for so long. "No! Yamcha, please..."  
  
Between the three of them, it took almost no time to shred away her useless nightgown, and they had her on the floor in less time than that. As they took turns molesting her, Bulma tried to separate herself from her body, as she had always done, but found that her prison was not only physical, but mental also. She couldn't do it-- she felt every jerk, push, and rough caress that the men delivered, plus the humiliation of being violated in front of all-too alert eyes. She had claimed to be indifferent before, but this was a new kind of punishment, one that left her reduced to a screaming, sobbing, frantic woman that she didn't even recognize.  
  
They left after they were through without so much as a parting word or threat. Bulma remained on her face on the floor, trembling and teary-eyed. Slowly, painfully, she moved her arms so that she could rest her head on her hands, and tried to calm herself. But the harder she tried, the more she shook.  
  
Across the floor a foot or so away, one of the generals' pocketknife lay on the floor, discarded before the rape began. The shiny silver razorblade glinted in the fading light, and the attraction of death to Bulma had never been so great. Shakily, she reached a shaky arm out for it.  
  
The pain was unbearable now-- how would it feel when Vejita arrived and would witness her helplessness for himself? The shame was almost too great to comprehend. Bulma was certain that he would never want her now that she had been damaged beyond repair. She knew that she would rather die than face him now.   
  
Mustering up all the reserves that she had, she rolled over onto her back, and then into a sitting position, hunched close to the floor. She didn't even have to remove any clothing-- the men had done it for her, with pleasure.  
  
The first cut hurt, but the second and third didn't so much. In fact, as she continued her deadly ministrations, she became numb to the pain altogether. She was unable to separate herself from her body this time, also, but she didn't much care. She wanted her soul to die, too.   
  
Before her head began to spin, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the red liquid that was spilling forth from her frail body. Her formerly beautiful countenance had, in her eyes, diminished somewhat. She didn't even recognize the sorrowful, battered woman in the torn corset who stared back at her. For some reason, she felt some satisfaction in this revelation. If she wasn't the same, then she wouldn't be killing herself, would she?  
  
The last mental picture she harbored before giving in to the darkness was the image of the man who had loved her, the stubborn Saiyan King whom she was now leaving behind...  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
******   
  
(A/N): What will happen when someone finds her? Will Vejita's cause be lost, or will he continue his tirade on Earth? I guess that's for me to know, and you to find out... ^_~ Since one of the reviewers (I won't mention any names... their crime is too great) stole my non-reviewer-finding flashlight, I'm going to have to resort to what every other author out there does and just simply ASK you to review. Damn, that takes all the fun out of it, too!  
  
Another word before I leave y'all... go check out the fic "Darkness Swirling" by KamalaKali-- I'm her beta reader, so believe me, its worth your time! Its an original idea that I'm sure you'll enjoy as much as I do. ^_^  
  
Ja ne... and please remember to leave me a review!  
  
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	34. Part Four: 34

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Maylene and Byron sat silently in the dirty little building that had become the home of the small group of rebels. All around them, the people who had come to view them as their leaders slept restlessly. More than once, a child's quiet whimpers could be heard above the snoring of the men, the only present evidence of their misgivings. Maylene wanted to shut out their sounds of despair, but it wasn't working anymore. It seemed that from now on, they would have to face harsh reality.  
  
"Its been too long," Byron muttered hopelessly. "They should have been here a long time ago. They must have been defeated-- that's the only explanation that I can think of. They've been defeated by Yamcha, and Bulma will have to endure a living hell for the rest of her life."  
  
"Oh, shut the hell up!" Maylene snapped, sick of his self-pity. "The Saiyans will win, believe me. Its just a matter of time before they get here. They're probably just otherwise engaged in other parts of the world. If you have any amount of trust in me at all by now, then please believe that and stop your whining."  
  
Byron looked doubtful. "Why should I trust you? For all I know, you're in this for your own selfish reasons. You could be trying to get your own titles back, for Kami's sake! What do I have that would convince me to trust you?" He shook his head. Maylene listened silently, her lips in a tight line. He was merely babbling to blow off some steam, so she let him. "I could only be reassured by someone that I trust at this point."  
  
"Oh, spare me," she replied incredulously. "I've been working alongside you for quite a while now, helping to put food in the mouths of these dirty, dream-ridden fools that you insist will save this planet one day! Do you think that I, a woman of nobility and class, the girl who always loved pretty gowns and great parties, would stoop to this disgusting level if I didn't think that it, that you, were worth the effort?" She couldn't believe that she was sharing her feelings with Byron, but saving one's pride was hardly worth it anymore. "I think that there's trust between us, and that should be enough."  
  
Byron was silent for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. When he spoke, he sounded more rational and less crazed with hopelessness. "You're right. They will come in time." He ran a tired hand through his disheveled hair and sighed. "Its just that sitting here, doing nothing, is driving me up a wall. It kills me knowing that she's sitting up here in the palace, at the mercy of that monster..."  
  
Maylene let out an ironic, almost hysterical laugh. At the shocked look on Byron's face, she laughed harder. "What's happened to us, Byron? Look at us! We used to be the pride of Earth's courts, the finest young people around. You were the hottest young bachelor, and Bulma and I were the best of friends and just beginning to see the world and its possibilities. And now..." She cackled again, and Byron wondered if something had snapped in the woman since this had all started. "Now look at what we've become. You're a pathetic, lovesick man without a cent to your name, chasing a useless cause, and I'm... well, I'm in almost the exact same situation. Except I'm doing this for the good of my childhood friend, not to barge my way back into her life."  
  
"When this is over and Yamcha is dead, we can start all over," Byron said. "We can rebuild our lives."  
  
  
  
"No we can't," Maylene contradicted forlornly. "When the Saiyans win, Earth will never be the same. Their king will save Bulma from her sad situation, sweep her off her feet, then take her back to his palace on Vejitasei, and we'll be left behind. They won't attempt to rebuild our planet or its customs. Its not their way. When they take over a planet, its viewed as conquered territory, nothing more than another asset to add to their long list. We'll never see her again, Byron."  
  
Byron's face was hard with determination. "That's not true. When the soldiers come to our city, we'll come out and greet them. We'll join forces, and then when they kill Yamcha and take over the palace, we'll see Bulma again. She loved us both once, and I doubt that she'll have forgotten. She'll make sure that we, as well as the planet, are taken care of."  
  
"See what I'm talking about?" Maylene exclaimed pointedly. "You're hopeless! You're chasing a dream that will never come true. Bulma will not fall head over heels for you again, no matter how involved you become with the Saiyans. We're her past, and they are her future. The sooner you come to accept that, the easier things will be. Do as I do-- help the cause because you cared for her once, and because there's nothing else to do in the midst of a war."  
  
Before he could reply, she stood and walked to the far corner of the room, where she had become accustomed to sleeping. Byron watched her settle down to sleep, then turned away. He knew that what she had said was right with his brain, but not with his heart. Somewhere inside of himself, he still believed that there was a chance of earning her love again, no matter what anyone told him.  
  
Sighing in defeat (for now), Byron layed down to sleep. Little did he know, his chance to shine was swiftly approaching.  
  
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Vejita watched the small pod break away from the main ship through narrowed eyes. He wasn't worried about its safety-- Valyn had equipped Magdalene and her handmaiden's pod with special technology that made it virtually untraceable, and Kami knew that Magdalene could fare for herself. What worried him was her own strong will. If she saw fit, she would defy him in a heartbeat.  
  
"Can you hear me?" his mother's voice crackled through the intercom that connected their pod to the ship.   
  
"Clearly."  
  
He had originally planned to send them down to Earth at a later time, but something was disturbing him this day, whispering for him to hurry in the back of his mind. For the life of him he couldn't figure it out, but he meant to try. He turned away from the window and departing space pod and took a seat in his chair.  
  
"We're approaching the capital now," Magdalene informed him. "I'll contact you as soon as we get in."  
  
Vejita ignored her and leaned farther back into his chair. The whispering nagging in the back of his mind was causing his temples to throb with pain. Frustrated, the king closed his black eyes.  
  
As if waiting for him to finally slip into unconsciousness, a dream formed quickly in his mind. Except this was far too real, too painful, to be a dream. If he had been awake, he would have jumped up in his chair.  
  
He was seeing the world through someone else's eyes, someone with eyesight not as keen as a Saiyan's. Through these new eyes, he stared down at a cement floor, a floor covered with a thick pool of blood. This person's weak senses and nerve recoiled at the grisly sight at first, then was overwhelmed with a surge of satisfaction. They wanted to hurt themselves-- they were delighting in the sight of their life flowing out of their body.  
  
Thin, frail white hands came into his view, hands wielding a long dagger. Vejita's mind raced with alarm, for he knew those hands. They were Bulma's hands.   
  
As if to confirm his guess, a small wavering voice sounded. The voice was weak and half-hearted, but he recognized the song it was humming instantly. His song. Alarm made his vision of the dream go red for a moment, but whoever sent him this vision was not finished yet.  
  
The vision of the red-stained floor lurched closer, and Vejita knew that she was now lying in the pool of her blood. If she moved just the slightest bit to the side, she would drown in it. Not only was that danger looming, but the fresh cuts on her arms and wrists threatened to leak until she was bone-dry.  
  
Using all of his mental strength, Vejita tried to break the vision and escape from unconsciousness, but it was not to be achieved. For a few minutes that seemed to Vejita like hours, he was forced to stare at the growing pool of crimson around the woman's head. As if to tease him, a few perfect curls fell into his view and became soaked in the thick liquid.  
  
And then it was over. Vejita nearly fell out of his chair when his own vision came back to him, but he hardly noticed. Consumed by anger and, to his shame, fear, he stormed out of the control room and to the meeting place where his last remaining generals, Turles, and Valyn were waiting.  
  
They glanced up in shock when this beast threw open their door. Vejita had looked bad before, but now he was simply frightening. His eyes were tinged with red, and an aura of just barely restrained power radiated around him. Turles immediately jumped to his feet, followed by Valyn, who looked more cautious.  
  
"What has happened?" Turles demanded. "What's the matter? Did Magdalene make it on Earth alright?"  
  
"Prepare your ships," Vejita growled, disregarding Turles' question completely. "We leave for the capital in thirty minutes."  
  
"But, Vejita!" Valyn protested before the king could exit the room. "You're advancing our plans by nearly a week! I had thought that you wanted to completely weaken the other parts of Earth before you took the palace."  
  
Vejita met his old friend's eyes with his own, and in them Valyn saw the rage, but also the foreboding pain, and knew what had happened. If he had thought that things were bad before, then they were simply disastrous now. There would be no swaying Vejita now.  
  
"Dear Kami," he breathed. "Is she alright? What has happened to her, Vejita? Tell me!"  
  
Vejita glared down at the transparent-skinned hands that gripped the front of his armor, then at his friend's pleading eyes. Pathetic-- the man was begging like a child. With hands that shook, he seized Valyn's writsts and removed them from his chest carefully. "I cannot tell you what I saw. You have to see it for yourself." Then he released the man's wrists and moved from the room, leaving the men staring after him.  
  
Turles came down upon Valyn like a madman. "What did he say? I know he told you more!"  
  
Valyn shook his head, dismissing the interrogation. "He told me nothing that I didn't know already. He saw something. I don't know how or why, but he did, and it has to do with Bulma. Something's gone wrong." Turles caught a glimpse of his eyes before he turned to the other man and knew that more had been communicated between Valyn and Vejita than either was letting on. He did not question it, however. "You heard what your king said!" he shouted to the stunned generals. "Man your ships and prepare to invade the capital!"  
  
Turles turned away from Valyn and cursed under his breath as he moved to do Vejita's bidding. "The asshole could have at least waited for nightfall to have his little vision..."  
  
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Magdalene and Chichi were crowded together in the small spacepod, more than halfway to Earth when they realized that they were still wearing their Saiyan garments. After a brief moment of panic, the two had lapsed into a brooding silence, each battling their own demons.  
  
Chichi was thinking about Kakkarott, who was off fighting the humans somewhere, for all she knew. He thought that she was safe on Vejita's ship, cozy and protected because of her pregnancy. But no-- here she was, jammed in a spacepod and about to undertake a dangerous mission. To tell the truth, she felt as safe with Magdalene as she did when Kakkarott was around, but she was sure that he wouldn't feel the same way.  
  
Magdalene was thinking about the mission at hand and just how they were going to waltz into the palace while wearing their unmistakeably Saiyan clothing. She fingered the thin material of her green wrap and wracked her brain for solutions, but none came to her.  
  
"What if we find Bulma, and she's..." Chichi trailed off for a moment, hesitant to utter the words that would bring Vejita's wrath-- therefore certain doom-- upon all of them. "dead?"  
  
The Saiyan Queen was silent for a moment. She had wondered the same thing. "That's a possibility, but we cannot let ourselves dwell upon it. We have to believe that she's alive, for all of our sake's."  
  
Chichi grunted-- the last sound that either one of them made until they made their bumpy landing just outside the capital city.  
  
Stiffly, the two women stumbled out of the pod and into the bright midday sun. The air felt thicker, less pure than that on Vejitasei, and both Saiyans were forced to breathe more deeply in order to adapt to the change.  
  
Before them lay the outskirts of the city. There were no guards, or even traces of human life, visible-- just small, rundown houses of peasants and little merchant shops here and there. Bravely, Magdalene made the first steps towards it. Chichi followed silently, trailing a little behind.  
  
"They're all empty," Magdalene observed, poking her head through the doorway of a particularly ramshackle home. She withdrew it with a look of disgust. "I cannot believe that Yamcha allows his own people to live like this. Even the third class on Vejitasei don't live in these conditions."  
  
Chichi had made the same observation herself. "Where do you think all the people are?"  
  
  
  
"Well, since Vejita hasn't attacked here yet, I'd say that the men and boys have gone elsewhere to fight, or else are gathered near the palace," Magdalene replied as they threaded their way through the city streets and alleys. "As for the women and girl-children... they are probably servicing the army or are in hiding. Probably in the surrounding areas or even in basements."  
  
They walked through the city like this for what seemed like a very long while, staring at the same scenes of emptiness and poverty until they all ran together and were impossible to tell apart. Finally, when the sun was high in the sky and almost ready to begin its descent down into the far horizon again, they reached what seemed to be closer to the center of the city.  
  
Magdalene stopped in her tracks at the sight of the melon rinds that littered the road in front of her so quickly that Chichi almost ran into her before she was able to stop herself.   
  
"There are people here," the queen said quietly. "These were discarded very recently."  
  
"How can you tell?" Chichi asked in a low whisper. "You can never be sure that--"  
  
"Stay right where you are, Saiyans," a human voice cut in. From inside one of the 'abandoned' buildings, a human man slipped out. He was underweight and dressed in dirty, torn clothing, but he had a look of nobility about him. He was most likely a misplaced duke or lord of some kind, Magdalene guessed. "Its hard to believe that the Saiyan King would send out two of his women to invade the city, is it not?"  
  
A dark-haired, striking woman stepped out of the building beside him and looked them over, unimpressed. "I don't think he sent them at all, Byron. Look at them-- they are clearly lost and caught off their guard." She, too, looked noble but was dressed in worn clothing and a nondescript gray cape. Her aristocratic features, however, made it impossible to forget to which class she belonged. "Who are you, and what business do you have away from your own kind?"  
  
Magdalene answered before Chichi could say anything untoward. "I am Queen Magdalene, and this is Chichi, my handmaiden." She figured that there was no point in lying to them-- even if she didn't train as hard as the men did, she was stronger than the average human and could take them if they chose to attack. "I have come to Earth to infiltrate the palace and check on your queen. It would be a great advantage to Vejita if he knew what state she was in, and where she was being kept."  
  
"Why are you telling us this?" the man who the woman had called Byron asked. "We could kill you, or take you to our king if we wanted to."  
  
Magdalene smiled knowingly. "You would not take us to your leader, nor would you be wise to attack us. Yamcha is your king, but he doesn't have the loyalty of his people. Anyone can see that. Besides that," She shot an amused look at Chichi. "you asked."  
  
The woman looked slightly intrigued. "Are you daft? You can't stroll into the palace wearing clothing like that. Yamcha would have you captured in an instant." She glanced at Byron, as if to assess his reaction, then turned back to the Saiyan women, her expression resolute. "I'll accompany you on your mission. I was... closely acquainted with Bulma once, and I know my way around the palace. I could help you get past the guards."  
  
Byron protested before Magdalene could utter a word. "You are the only daft one here, Maylene! Are you insane? You're putting your life into a Saiyan's hands!"  
  
Maylene glared daggers at him. "Like hell I'm daft!" she spat. "You're only protesting because you're jealous of the opprotunity! You wanted to be the one to ally yourself with the Saiyans and go see Bulma, and now I'm taking the chance. Its easy to see why you're protesting. Don't you think its time that you stop acting like a child and think of the greater cause here?"  
  
"I still don't think..."  
  
"Besides," Maylene continued. "Someone has to stay here and look after the others, as well as meet this Vejita character whenever he decides to show up. I'm just a human female-- he'd kill me on the spot. For you, he'd at least listen for a moment. Better a crazed man than a crazed woman."  
  
"She's quite right," Magdalene added. "I should know-- the man is my son. To ensure that you aren't harmed, I'll contact him later and inform him of your intentions. I can't guarantee that he'll listen, but I can give you a chance."  
  
Maylene smirked triumphantly. "I can help you two find some decent clothing to disguise yourself with. They're very particular about what their servants wear, so everything must be perfect."  
  
Byron could not hide his disapproval. "You're making a mistake, Maylene. Yamcha will recognize you, I'm sure of it."  
  
"He will not," the woman replied definitely. "Its been a long time since he's seen me. Besides that, I think that he'll be occupied with other things at the moment-- the fact that half of his planet is in flames, for instance. And if I remember correctly, he never lowers himself to dealing with handmaidens. We'll most likely only be confronted by guards."  
  
Magdalene glanced up at the sun in the sky and then back to the arguing humans. "I would love to allow you more time for heartfelt good-byes, but the sunlight is leaving quickly. I would like to be at the palace before Bulma sleeps."  
  
"I'm ready," Maylene told her. "I have no belongings to bring with me." She then turned to Byron, who looked sorry to see her go, despite their many disagreements. "Well, we're parting at last. At least you don't have to deal with me anymore. Your 'noble cause' can now be accomplished without any sarcastic remarks from me."  
  
Byron gave her a half-hearted smile. "You were the only thing keeping me down to earth, you know. There's no telling what I'll do without your expert guidance."  
  
"So go cry about it," Maylene retorted. With a brave smile, she extended her hand. "For old time's sake. I'll make sure that I say hello to Bulma for you."  
  
Byron took her hand and pulled her into a friendly hug. "See you when the dust settles."  
  
Maylene looked back once as she and the Saiyan women walked away. Byron was still standing there in front of his pathetic little building filled with people, watching them go. In spite of herself, Maylene felt her heartstrings tug a little. Quickly shaking off the unfamiliar feeling, she turned away and adjusted her pace to the brisk one of the other women.  
  
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An hour or so later, the three women were dressed in identical gray gowns, somber and conservative with corsets underneath. The two Saiyan women had balked at the tight contraption at first, but now were reduced to grimacing at almost every breath. Maylene did not seem to be bothered by the outfit, besides the fact that it was both inconspicuous and cheap, both of which she detested in clothing.  
  
"Is this truly what the handmaidens here wear?" Chichi asked, adjusting her corset and heavy wool dress uncomfortably.   
  
"Of course it is," Maylene snapped back. "Do you think that I would sacrifice myself along with you two by choosing the wrong outfit? I have had servants almost all of my life. I think I know what they wear."  
  
"I can't understand how anyone could get work done in this," Chichi grumbled in reply. She was especially uncomfortable in the outfit because of her newly swollen baby. She bitterly wondered if the dress would do any permanent damage. "On Vejitasei, maids are allowed to wear free-flowing dresses at least."  
  
Magdalene did her best to shut the two women's bickering out of her mind, but was not having much success. The morale of the group was dangerously low, and the palace was only minutes away. "What do you plan to do?" she asked Maylene. "Are we simply going to walk into the palace?"  
  
The Earth woman shook her head. "No; we're going to enter through the servant's quarters, then make our way to some guards who can tell us where Bulma is. We're going to have to find some bath supplies or something and use the excuse of cleansing her for Yamcha to get in."  
  
"This is going to be a disaster," Chichi muttered under her breath.  
  
Magdalene was about to reply when the communicator that Vejita had given her beeped underneath her clothing. She quickly stopped and pulled her companions into one of the empty buildings. Chichi was incredulous as the queen pulled the device out of her skirts.  
  
"He chose to communicate now?!" she complained. "We could have been anywhere! He could have gotten us killed!"  
  
"I am quite aware of that," Magdalene retorted shortly, taking the device in hand.  
  
"Who?" Maylene demanded. "Your son?"  
  
Magdalene nodded and switched the communicator on. "Vejita, what the hell are you thinking? We could be in the palace right now and at Yamcha's mercy!"  
  
"Spare me your whining," Vejita said carelessly. "I thought it only fair to warn you that we're on our way to the capital."  
  
The queen's green eyes grew large in her head. "What on Earth are you talking about? You're way ahead of schedule!"  
  
"I have my reasons," he replied vaguely. "None of which I have to explain to you. We'll reach the city in four hours. I plan to attack the moment we land-- I'll have none of this delaying that you guys seem so fond of."  
  
Maylene listened to him from behind Magdalene, observing the roughness of his voice and his unmistakable authority. She tried to envision just what Bulma had loved about this arrogant man, but she couldn't tell anything from this conversation. To be quite honest, just the king's commanding tone frightened her a bit. He sounded like a winning asshole to her.  
  
"You've seen something," Magdalene accused. "What did you see?"  
  
"I saw you hauling ass to the palace and getting me my report before I arrive."  
  
There was a brief shadow of hurt on Magdalene's proud face, but it disappeared just as quickly as it had come. Maylene wondered what on Earth was going on with these Saiyans, who had seemed so put-together from afar. She shrugged it off as the royal problems that people in power always seemed to have. In any case, it couldn't be half as bad an environment as the one that Bulma had been living in.  
  
"I really wish that you weren't so much like your Kami-damned father, Vejita," Magdalene snapped. "If you weren't, then perhaps you could see the haste behind your actions. You should wait right where you are until we're sure that Bulma is even well enough to go home with you."  
  
"How far are you from the palace now?" he asked.  
  
"We can be there in a manner of minutes," she answered. "I wish that you would give us some more time. We could get her out of the palace so that there wouldn't be so much risk involved. Surely you can go along with that."  
  
"Surely I cannot. I want to see the look on Yamcha's face, and the look on hers when I spill his blood." There was a heavy sigh on his side of the line. "I'm growing bored of this arguement. Contact me when you know her condition, and don't do anything that will get you into more trouble than you're already in."  
  
The device went silent, and Magdalene knew that he had gone. "Damn him and his foolish pride!"  
  
"You want me to help you bring Bulma to that?" Maylene exclaimed. "I don't think so! I would rather hide her among the commoners on this planet than deliver her to the hands of some... some bloodthirsty, stubborn..." She struggled for a word. "ass!"  
  
Magdalene smiled in amusement at the woman's bold exclamation. She could easily see why Bulma was connected to her. She was brutally honest about anything and everything. "He may be some of those things, dear, but let me assure you that he would never lay a hand on Bulma. He would sooner give up his title and claim to power."  
  
"He would never lay a violent hand on her, anyway," Chichi quipped quietly. This earned genuine smiles from all women and the tension in the air seemed to diminish somewhat.  
  
"Whether Vejita's a nice person or not, the fact is that we have to get her out of here," the Saiyan queen said. "It doesn't make much of a difference where she goes afterwards, at least not now."  
  
Maylene nodded in agreement. "You're right. I'm sorry for my outburst-- its just that I would hate to see her go to another man like Yamcha. You have no idea what its like to watch your best friend being reduced to emptiness. You don't know what it has been like here for so many years."  
  
"Its going to change very soon," Magdalene promised solemnly, resting a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. "Believe me."  
  
As she led them closer to the palace and Bulma, Maylene knew that she was not lying. It would all be over soon.  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
******   
  
(A/N): Happy New Year, everyone! I hope that this new year finds you healthy and happy. Anyway, I know its been unusually long between updates lately, and for that I apologize. I've just been very busy, but thank God that's over now. The holidays are great, but very, very stressful. -_-;; On a side note-- I would like to recommend two fics that were written by friends of mine, and I promise that you won't be disappointed: "Darkness Swirling" by KamalaKali (I'm her beta-reader ^_^), and "Dangerous Liasons" by Kira Anne. They're both very unique BV's, and well-written. Check them out, for me!  
  
Ja ne... and please remember to leave me a review!  
  
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	35. Part Four: 35

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Yamcha sighed and rubbed his throbbing temples-- the result of drinking so much so fast, he presumed. He scolded himself for forgetting to take the special hangover pills that he had had concocted for himself years ago and forced himself to push the thoughts of pain aside. He had more important things to worry about at the moment, such as Bulma.  
  
Since he had taken some of his friends to 'visit' her, he hadn't been back. Not because he didn't want to-- Kami knew that his body yearned for the warmth of her own every moment of the day-- but because the war was keeping him occupied every minute of the day. Apparently, his planet was in flames, save for the capital city and his palace. This news should have alarmed him, but it did not. It only made him frustrated that Vejita hadn't had the balls to come for him yet. He itched for the final confrontation. The idea of his own defeat was blurred and erased from his mind; he could no longer imagine that he could quite possibly (and most likely) lose.  
  
He rounded the corner in the hallway, and was greeted by the sight of Lady Briefs chatted gravely with one of the generals, who was also a nobleman, of course. When she saw him, her lips twisted into a frown and she lifted her chin in acknowledgement. It irked Yamcha that she would not lower herself to bowing to him. It was as if she were the one ruling the planet, not him! He clenched his fists by his sides.  
  
"Tension getting to you, Your Highness?" she mocked, her ice blue eyes calculating. "I can hardly blame you. Those Saiyan bastards have practically overrun us by now. Do you mean to let them defeat us, or do you have an elaborate, belated attack plan?"  
  
"I don't have to listen to belittlement from a member of my own court," Yamcha snapped in reply. "You're forgetting who's really in charge around here, my lady." Clearly seeing that he was not welcome in the conversation, the general wandered away.   
  
Lady Briefs ignored the chastisement. "You're venturing out to see to my insolent spawn, aren't you? If I were you, I wouldn't waste my time."  
  
"And why is that?"  
  
"Because," she answered. "General Warren, the gentleman that you just scared away, just received word that one of King Vejita's ships showed up briefly on their radars before disappearing again-- apparently it was coming in for a landing." She shrugged nonchalantly, fluttering her eyelashes. "But that's just what I heard."  
  
All thoughts of Bulma were gone from Yamcha's head. He would have to deal with her later. "Why did the General not tell me this?"  
  
"He was on his way to confirm it when I inquired as to his errand."  
  
"Fuck," Yamcha muttered, more to himself than to Lady Briefs. "What the hell is Vejita doing?"  
  
Lady Briefs raised an eyebrow. Her expression mocked Yamcha's serious situation. "Coming to murder you, I suppose."  
  
Yamcha promptly left her there, still wearing that sarcastic look on her face.  
  
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Meanwhile, Magdalene, Chichi, and Maylene arrived at the palace. They were all nervously silent as Maylene led them around to the back of the enormous (though not quite the scale of the one on Vejitasei, Magdalene couldn't help but note) building, where the servants' quarters were located.   
  
"Now, you're sure that no one will stop us?" Chichi asked, her voice just barely audible.   
  
Maylene rolled her eyes. "Of course I'm not sure. We could be stopped the moment we open up the door, for all I know. I've never been in a servant's place in my life."  
  
The women were uncomfortably silent as they rounded the final corner. Maylene stopped then, her narrowed eyes on an inconspicuous door that loomed before them. She sucked in a deep, shaky breath, and Magdalene saw tension build in her curvy frame. Concerned, the Saiyan Queen placed an inquiring hand on the woman's shoulder, and felt the knotted muscle beneath.  
  
"This is quite a personal experience for you, isn't it?" she asked quietly. "If you do not wish to continue, I'm sure that Chichi and I can survive from here. I wouldn't think less of you for it." Maylene was silent, so Magdalene continued soothingly. "I can call Vejita and tell him that you've helped us. He won't harm you when he comes through. You and your friends will be safe."  
  
"No," Maylene insisted, finally. "I'm quite alright, thank you. I just haven't been here in years. It brings back memories, you know?" When the other women eyed her doubtfully, she glared. "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's get on with it!"  
  
The human reached for the door and turned the knob. The door opened without incident, and cautiously the three women stepped through.  
  
They found themselves in exactly the room that Maylene had described-- servants' quarters. They had entered a long, narrow hallway with doors lining both sides. On each door was a temporary name plate, tarnished and in as poor a condition as the doors themselves. Maylene wrinkled her nose at the bad-quality carpet beneath her feet.  
  
"Well, here we are," she grumbled. "There's no other place in the palace like this, you can be sure of that."  
  
Chichi explored the hall with her dark eyes. "Its not as bad as some of the conditions that I've lived in," she admitted shyly. A tinge of pink was obvious on her otherwise tanned cheeks. "At least there aren't any rats."  
  
Magdalene looked sympathetic, and Maylene disgusted, though she tried unsuccessfully to hide it. "Don't you live in the palace?"  
  
"No, I don't," Chichi confessed. "I never have. That was simply my excuse for coming with Magdalene. My mate is fighting here, and I'm... carrying his child. I couldn't bear to be apart from him now. So... I came along."  
  
Maylene didn't look impressed. She had heard many pathetic lost-love stories since being banished from the palace, and this was just another one to her. "What a sweet story. Now if you two don't mind, we should be getting on to see Bulma now." Without another word, she turned and began ambitiously down the hallway.  
  
Magdalene shot Chichi, who looked as if she had been slapped, a sympathetic look and followed Maylene. Chichi followed suit, but only after shooting a forlorn glance at the door through which they had entered. For the life of her, she couldn't recognize what Bulma had seen in this cold, unfeeling woman.  
  
"This is the end of the hall," Maylene cautioned them as they approached a set of grander, bigger doors. "When we go through here, there's no going back. We'll enter directly into the main hall, where Kami knows who could be wandering around. Just remember, never meet anyone's eyes except for other servants, and keep your voice low and respectful. Don't do or say anything that will set you apart from the others." She looked them over doubtfully before speaking again. "And, please-- follow my lead."  
  
They went through the doors, and found themselves in one of the main hallways of the palace. The floors were white and gray marble, and the walls were decorated with pleasant-- althought dull-- paintings of landscapes and flower gardens. Here and there, a portrait of a member of the royal families of old was hung, and Magdalene immediately took notice of the constriciting clothes they wore, along with the emotionless faces. What sort of world had Bulma come from? she found herself wondering.  
  
The palace here was much more sparsely decorated than the one on Vejitasei, with fewer displays of blatant wealth and power. No portraits of battle scenes or military heroes were present-- only fat, pale statesmen and stuffy ladies.   
  
They passed a couple guards, who didn't give them a second glance. Magdalene noticed that they were especially scrawny (at least to her eyes) and carried only medium-sized swords. Odd for wartime. Anyway, she was beginning to be able to understand why Bulma had loved the palace on Vejitasei so much. Just walking through the halls of this place was not only boring-- it was also suffocating. She was mulling this over when a guard suddenly approached them.  
  
"What's your business, ladies?" he inquired, his expression not at all suspicous. Magdalene was eternally grateful for Maylene's expert help. "Queen Bulma didn't keep many of her handmaidens around after the war started..."  
  
"That's right, sir," Maylene answered quietly, her eyes on the floor. "Just us. We've received orders to attend to her. Have you an idea of where the lady is right now?"  
  
A dark cloud entered into the man's eyes. "King Yamcha's got her locked up in the church for safekeepin'."  
  
"Thank you." Maylene curtsied and led the two disguised Saiyans past the guard, who went on his way without looking back. She shot them both smug looks. "See? No one gives a flying fuck what the servants do around here; not even the guards."  
  
"The security here is atrocious," Magdalene scoffed. "If we were on Vejitasei, we would have been reduced to a smoking pile of ashes by now."  
  
"Welcome to Earth," Maylene responded breezily. "Its always been this way, ever since Yamcha's family ascended the throne. Yamcha's family were only cousins of the royal family, by the way. His grandfather was rumored to have killed off the other heirs to the throne, just as we all suspect Yamcha did. A lot of bastards, I assure you. I can't wait to watch Yamcha die."  
  
They passed through a few more hallways and then Maylene stopped. They were in front of a huge set of heavy wooden doors, ornately carved with religious pictures. Angels looked to the ceiling as if they, too, were wishing to escape from this place. The two burly guards standing in front of the doors, however, somewhat marred the beautiful picture that the doors made.  
  
"What are you doing here?" one of them demanded. "No one's allowed in here."  
  
Maylene flashed them a demure smile. "King Yamcha's ordered us to attend to the queen, sir." She withdrew a hairbrush and bundle of hairpins from her skirts. Magdalene had to hide a smile-- no one had noticed her slip them in as they were stealing from one of the city stores. She was a crafty one. "He wants her to be presentable for when he visits her tonight."  
  
The guard hesitated for a moment, his eyes critically assessing their outfits, then finally stepped aside. His partner followed suit. "Fine."  
  
"Have you checked in on her lately, sir?" Maylene asked before entering. "Perhaps she is in need of more than hairpins..."  
  
"No one's allowed entrance except you and King Yamcha," he answered curtly. "I haven't been inside."  
  
"Of course." Maylene curtsied-- a very skilled and practiced curtsy, rather than that of a servant, Magdalene noticed with a grimace-- then entered the church. She slammed the doors behind them.  
  
"You'll have to work harder to disguise your class, dear," Magdalene advised her. "You're lucky that those guards didn't notice your ease."  
  
"Oh, who gives a damn?" Maylene muttered. "Let's find her."  
  
The women stood at the entrance of the palace church, their eyes adjusting to the dimmer lighting. The last rays of sunlight were filtered in multicolored light on the pews and the altar, but the rest of the room was encased in shadow. Motes of dust floated in the rays of light, as if there hadn't been movement there in a long time. This worried the Saiyan Queen more than the eerie, dead silence did.  
  
"Bulma?" Maylene called quietly. Her voice echoed off the high ceilings, the only response to her call. "Are you alright?"  
  
Chichi was looking towards the altar when she noticed a dark, unmoving shape behind it. Squinting to discern what it was, she moved closer. "Hey guys!" she exclaimed. "Over here."  
  
The other two women hurried over to her, and together they approached the inky shadows behind the altar, as if sensing that something foreboding awaited them.   
  
Maylene was within a few feet of the form when her foot-- protected only by thin slippers-- encountered something warm and wet on the ground. Wincing, she lifted it and was shocked to see that what she had stepped in was a large, growing puddle-- a deep red puddle. And then they stumbled upon Bulma.  
  
She was crumpled face-down on the floor, her magnificent (though now tangled) curls splayed out into the sticky puddle that had formed around her like a halo. She wore almost nothing-- just a thin nightgown that looked as if it had seen better days. Her skin was pale as death, and they could detect no movement.  
  
Maylene stumbled back away from her friend's body, her face draining of all color. Her mind was flooded with happier memories of she and Bulma's time together, and the woman had an inkling that pretty soon memories were going to be all that she had left of her. Completely breaking character, she began to cry.  
  
"Sweet Kami," Magdalene muttered, her face growing nearly as white as Bulma's. "Help me turn her over-- she could have been smothered!"  
  
Together, she and Chichi managed to turn the underweight body of their friend over onto her back, which provided them with an even more grotesque sight.  
  
Her face was smeared with crimson, and her hair had stuck to the smears in several places. Ugly, fresh gashes ran up and down her forearms, and a short distance away they made out the shape of a long dagger, which was most likely what she had used on herself. Magdalene knelt down, her nose protesting the sharp scent of the blood, to check to see if she was breathing. It was just then that her communicator beeped rudely, causing alll three women to start.  
  
"What's going on down there?" Vejita demanded, his voice crackling through the device. "You're not there to shop around, you're there for a reason!"  
  
Magdalene could barely detect a pulse, and felt hardly any air from Bulma's breath on her cheek. Before she could control herself, she began to weep quietly, taking Bulma's head into her lap. Unfortunately, Vejita's Saiyan hearing picked up on her soft sounds immediately.  
  
"What's happening?" he asked loudly. "Tell me!"  
  
  
  
"Kami, Vejita... there's so much blood," she said hoarsely. Tears blurring her vision, she ran a motherly hand over Bulma's matted curls. "She's hanging on by a thread."  
  
"If you don't me what the FUCK happened--"  
  
"She..." Magdalene choked on her words. "She attempted suicide. The cuts are so deep-- she's lucky that she didn't severe an artery, for Kami's sake! We just found her, with all of this blood..." She trailed off again, interuppted by sobs. Magdalene's uncharacteristic weakness frightened him more than her words ever could have. "She was lying in a fucking pool of it, Vejita."  
  
Vejita's rage could almost be felt through the communicator, and Chichi shuddered as a cool chill went down her spine. Blood had been spilled-- Bulma's blood, of all people's-- which meant that an abundance of it was now started. There was a tight silence before he spoke again.  
  
"I'm an hour away," he finally said, his voice monotonous. "I've advanced our plans. I'm going to land my ships right in the middle of his fucking city and then kill anyone who gets in my way."  
  
Suddenly Magdalene remembered Byron and his pathetic gang of followers, alone and clueless in the city. "Not everyone-- there's a group of people here who want to help you. They know the ways of the humans well, and can help you attack. Please don't harm them, Vejita, for me..." When he snorted in disgust, she gripped the communicator tighter and played her guilt card. "Besides, their leader is an old friend of Bulma's-- a dear friend that I'm sure she would be very distressed to see decapitated."  
  
  
  
"Is she still breathing?" Vejita asked quietly after a moment. His voice still had underlaying tones of pain and anger, but it was masked now. Magdalene knew that he this was his form of reluctant agreement, but she still couldn't be sure about the safety of Byron and his friends. They could only pray now.   
  
Magdalene passed a hand over Bulma's still face forlornly, and smiled at Chichi as she came to sit by them. Gently, she moved Bulma's head into her own lap, and Magdalene grimaced at the smears of blood that were now on her own clothing. "Yes-- barely." Then, to Chichi, "Wrap those wounds, dear, before they drain the life out of her."  
  
"Alright," Chichi consented, her voice soft and weak. She began to rip strips off of the hem of her uncomfortable dress, and fashioned makeship bandages out of them.  
  
The Saiyan Queen stood shakily and moved a short distance away, passing the trembling form of Maylene as she went. She sat down on one of the front pews so that she could have some privacy, then spoke into the communicator again.  
  
  
  
"The others don't know..." she started hesitantly. "But she's been raped, also. I could smell it on her. I didn't want to upset them any further. The human who guided us here was her best friend, after all."  
  
  
  
A sharp intake of breath sounded on Vejita's end, and he made no efforts to hide his anger anymore. "When I enter the city, I'm going to fucking castrate every man who crosses my path."  
  
Magdalene was not pleased with the unnecessary violence, but there was nothing she could do. War was hell, after all-- that was what kept them from happening often. She just grimaced. "Remember the human rebels, Vejita. Their leader's name is Byron-- it would be great if you could spare his balls as well as his life."  
  
There was no response, because Vejita's end of the line had gone dead. She couldn't even be sure that he had heared her warning. She tucked the communicator back into her skirts and hurried over to the altar again. Chichi had wrapped up one of Bulma's arm, and was examining the second one as she wiped the excess liquid off of it. She lifted her big brown eyes up to Magdalene's when she approached, and they were filled with tears.  
  
"Why would she do this?" she said. "We were so close to her! Vejita is hardly an hour away."  
  
Magdalene kept all knowledge of the apparently violent rape to herself and instead gestured toward Maylene, who was still rocking back in forth in her own world. "See to her. I'll finish these."  
  
Chichi moved away, and Magdalene allowed her emotionless expression to pass away in favor of an expression of frustration. It was just as they had feared-- Bulma had retreated inside of herself, and when she had come out... this had happened. It would take nothing short of a miracle to bring her back again. But she kept her burden to herself.  
  
For now, she concentrated on tending to the fallen human, wondering if her beautiful blue eyes would ever open to the world again.  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
******   
  
(A/N): Update at last! I hope that you guys are as happy as I am that this chapter is finally done. For the past week, I've been under some enormous pressure because the impending final exams... my grades are in serious jeopardy here, and I'm feeling exhausted, stressed, and just plain irritable. -_-;; Maybe one of you guys knows of a good fic that can cheer me up a little. Anyway, since next week is gonna be full of exams and last-minute cramming, I wouldn't expect an update for a little while. Sorry, but grades come first! Also, my birthday is coming up on the 20th, so leave me an extra nice review as a birthday present! ^_^  
  
Ja ne for now! *Singing quietly to herself, holding a small cupcake with a pathetic little candle stuck in it* Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me.....  
  
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	36. Part Four: 36

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________________________~*Part Four*~: War  
  
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Yamcha watched the radar screen in front of him with disbelief. At that very moment, an exceptionally large ship was entering the atmosphere, almost directly above them, at an alarmingly fast speed. And, just when he had thought that it couldn't get much worse, three more of only a slightly smaller size entered behind it. He had been anxiously waiting for, even been looking forward to, the moment that Vejita decided to step up to the plate and challenge him, but all of the fantasies he had gone over in his head could not have prepared him for the moment that it actually happened. He felt like he was standing ass-naked in the middle of his war-planning room, while all of his generals laughed in his face. He had been telling them to relax, that Vejita wouldn't show up for another week, and here he was, proving him wrong.  
  
"I had thought that this Saiyan would wait until we're completely weakened," the man sitting next to him said, as if on cue. "You said that he wanted total domination instead of a speedy war."  
  
The others in the room waited for Yamcha's answer expectantly, their faces doubtful of their leader's prowess. For his part, all that Yamcha could do was open and close his mouth blankly.  
  
"Well," he stammered out. "That wasn't a concrete hypothesis... after all, the people are a bloodthirsty, unpredictable race. You can never guess what they're going to do next..."  
  
"It sounds to me like you have no idea what the hell is happening," one of the generals grumbled.  
  
"Excuse me, general?" Yamcha snapped. He could hardly believe this-- had they lost their respect for him completely? Who was the king here?  
  
"Nothing, sir," the man replied, but he certainly didn't look remorseful. "I was just mumbling to myself."  
  
"What's your plan of action?" another man asked, crossing his arms. "I'll need to know now, so that I can prepare my army."  
  
"My plan of action?" Yamcha scrambled for an answer. All of a sudden, he couldn't remember what he had been planning to do. He was definitely, above all, a cowardly man by nature. The idea that he might have to take charge and make the first move had not occured to him. "Prepare your armies to defend the city, and most of all the palace. I don't want a single damned Saiyan setting foot in this palace except for King Vejita. Allow none of his cronies in with him, do you hear me?"  
  
The generals in the room shot each other puzzled looks at this odd request, but moved to follow their king's orders anyway. It wasn't as if Yamcha was a typical ruler, they reminded themselves (both silently and aloud to each other) as they exited the room. Yamcha watched them leave, then shot up out of his seat when they were gone.  
  
"Kami-damn it all," he groaned under his breath. Moving the windows of the room that overlooked the city, he found himself searching the skies. Vejita would be here in a little under an hour, if he continued at his current speed. Hardly enough time to put a proper defense together.  
  
It was no matter, though. There was no one left in the city, or at least no one that Yamcha particularly cared about. The brutes could destroy most of it, for all that he cared, just so long as they didn't touch his palace. Or his woman.   
  
The reminder of Bulma made Yamcha even more apprehensive about Vejita's coming. Would the man even bother to fight Yamcha, or would he just sneak in, take Bulma, and leave? Thankfully, that second plan didn't sound like something that the proud Saiyan would do, but he could rule nothing out. The possibility that Vejita might be able to take Bulma, his most prized possession, away from him, made his fists clench in anger.  
  
How dare she stray away from me! he roared inwardly. If the little bitch wasn't so quick to spread her legs, we wouldn't be having this little problem. Or at least not so soon, he amended. He had, after all, gone to Vejitasei to start a war. But he hadn't known that Vejita would find such powerful inspiration back then. He had never dreamed that timid, subservient little Bulma would dare to defy him. She had grown back the backbone that he had taken so long to destroy, and that irked him.  
  
"The men left looking rather hopeless," a throaty voice pointed out from behind him. "I wonder what could have inspired such a reaction?"  
  
Yamcha did not want to speak with the calculating Lady Briefs right now. Sometimes he wondered why she stuck so close to him all of the time. Something told him that she was waiting for the opportunity when she could take the power from him. But that was ridiculous-- she was just a power-hungry noble, like all the rest of them. "Vejita's coming in under an hour. He's got three ships headed for us right now. I don't think that that's something that usually brings about smiles, do you?"  
  
  
  
Lady Briefs smirked. "So cynical! What happened to that enthusiastic king that I used to know?" Before Yamcha could answer for himself, she continued. "You've received a little dose of reality, I assume."  
  
"Reality?" Yamcha snorted. "You don't know what you're talking about. I've got everything under control. I was just surprised at the early arrival."  
  
"Ah," she replied. "I see now. Have you had a chance to check in on everyone's favorite adulteress?"  
  
He had almost forgotten about his earlier attempt to see her. "No, not yet. Have you?"  
  
"Why would I waste my time?" the woman dismissed breezily. "I was merely wondering whether she had crawled back into her shell again. She's a coward-- she can't even face her own problems."  
  
"I have no doubt that she's safe," Yamcha said. "I have two of my best guards on her right now. They won't let the wrong people through."  
  
Lady Briefs nodded. She knew that Yamcha would protect his trophy, his badge of honor, as best he could, though never with his own life. "Now that Vejita's almost here, don't you think that you should hide her a little bit better?"  
  
Yamcha grinned. "Nope. I've got her right where she should be. I want Vejita to find her. When he does, I'll be there waiting for him."  
  
"You don't mind if I lurk around in the shadows, do you?" Lady Briefs asked casually. Unconsciously, her hand went to where she had her dagger hidden in her skirts. "I just want to watch that son of a bitch fall, and my snotty daughter's face when he does." She was careful to play on Yamcha's ego by assuming that he would win, just to get her way. Of course, she knew that he might not, which was why she wanted to be there. She was thinking of an arrangement that she could come to with the Saiyan King as they spoke, always in the back of her mind. The dagger-- for protection and intervention, if the occasion called for it.  
  
Yamcha shrugged. "I don't care."  
  
The woman's face broke out into a grin. "Wonderful! I assume that when he arrives, you'll contact me somehow?"  
  
"Just stick around." Yamcha looked again towards the skies, and the aristocrat knew that she was losing his attention.  
  
"I'll take my leave then." Before she left, she stole another look at Yamcha. He looked distressed, and his complexion was ashen. Oh yes-- it was very likely that he would choke. She then left, but she would not be very far.  
  
Yamcha squinted so that he could better watch the sky above the clouds. Any moment now, he worried inwardly. Any moment...  
  
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Chichi passed a hand in front of Maylene's face, trying to get her to focus. "Hello? Are you alright?"  
  
The human woman feebly attempted to swat her away. "To hell with 'alright'," she muttered. "How the fuck could I be 'alright'?"  
  
Chichi rolled her eyes at the sarcastic woman's response and glanced over her shoulder at Magdalene, who was fixing up the bandages that she had applied to Bulma's arms. They were stained with blood already, but it looked to be slowing. "Listen, Maylene, it doesn't matter how we feel right now anyway. The only thing that matters is getting Bulma back to consciousness, and we need all the help that we can get. So why don't you stop being so selfish and think about your best friend for right now?" Her voice was unusually sharp, and her race began to show itself.  
  
Maylene blinked, surprised at Chichi's outburst. Then, to the other woman's surprise, she cracked a tight smile. "Well, well, well. There's that famous Saiyan temper."  
  
"Are you going to get up now?" Chichi asked impatiently. "Maybe seeing you when she wakes up will do Bulma some good."  
  
"Leave me alone for a minute," Maylene snapped, her eyes guarded again. "I'll be over there soon enough."  
  
Shaking her head, Chichi left the moody girl alone and approached Magdalene again. "How is she? Is her breathing any better?"  
  
"No," Magdalene said. "She's not conscious right now. I think she's slipped into some kind of trance or something. We have to wake her up, give her something to live for."  
  
"How might we do that?"   
  
Magdalene's brow furrowed, as if she were weighing her options. "Well... I suppose I could give her a jolt of energy, but I don't know that I can control it well enough to keep from hurting her. I can't believe that I'm saying this, but I wish Vejita were here."  
  
Chichi knelt beside Bulma and put to fingers to her neck. "Well, her pulse is steady, and you could probably manage your ki better than me. I've never even used it before." She eyed Magdalene seriously with her gentle brown eyes. "I think you should try it."  
  
"Try what?" Maylene had approached them, and she eyed the two Saiyans with suspicion. "What are you two talking about?"  
  
Ignoring her demands completely, Magdalene set her lips determinedly and placed a hand on Bulma's chest. "Kami give me strength... because if you don't, I'm going to be gutted by my own damned son."  
  
Maylene looked downright angry now. "What the hell is she going to do to Bulma?!"  
  
Chichi shot her a warning look. Even in her weakened, pregnant state and without any training at all, she was still stronger than the human woman. "She won't harm her. She's just giving her a shock to wake her up. I would suggest that you stay away so that you don't get hurt if anything goes wrong." This last part was exaggerated, but it worked, because Maylene stayed where she was, her arms crossed.  
  
A blue light shone around Magdalene's hands, a telltale sign of the use of ki. The queen took a deep breath, closed her eyes, then released the energy into Bulma's body. Almost as soon as she released it, she withdrew her hands and opened her eyes as if she had been shocked herself.  
  
Bulma's body jolted, then went still again. Just when the women thought that nothing was going to happen, the human woman groaned, and her eyelashes fluttered against her high cheekbones. Magdalene could hardly contain her relief.  
  
"Bulma!" she said, taking the woman's head in her hands. "Wake up. You're safe now-- its Magdalene. Kakkarott's mate, Chichi, is here also. And I believe that you would be very interested in seeing our other companion. Her name is Maylene."  
  
Bulma blinked a few more times, then her eyes opened fully. They were still painfully blue, but something was lacking. Magdalene could not study her closely enough to decide just what it was, but it took away from her originally startling beauty. "What..." She turned her injured arms over, seemingly puzzled at the bandages as well as the spots blood that had leaked through.   
  
"You're alive," Magdalene informed her, as if she needed reminding. "Thank Kami that we reached you in time. What on Earth were you thinking of when you did this?"  
  
Bulma disregarded the question as if it weren't important. "Why are you here? Yamcha-- he's here too... if he finds you--" Her head fell back in exasperation and weakness.  
  
"If he finds us, we can handle him," Magdalene assured her. "Besides, I think he has his hands full at the moment. Vejita's on his way. He'll be here before you know it, and all of this will be over."  
  
The human shook her head, and tears brimmed in her eyes. "It won't be over. So many people have been killed. Yamcha and his friends, they... he..."  
  
Magdalene caught the gist of what she was saying. He had raped her. "I know, dear. That time has passed. You survived, and for that I commend you."  
  
Bulma wanted to say that she didn't survive, that she would never be the same again, but she couldn't stand to watch the renewed light in Magdalene's eyes go out so soon. "I'm ruined now!" she muttered. She spoke of both the ugly marks on her arms and the damage done by Yamcha and his friends. "Who would want me like this?"  
  
"The crazy son of a bitch that overthrew me would." Magdalene did not dwell on the subject. "I have someone here who's been wanting to see you for years now. Perhaps you should sit up and greet her."  
  
Maylene did the job for Bulma. She moved quickly to her side, her hazel eyes bright with emotion. "Oh my Kami, B... look at you! How could you do this to yourself? Have you completely lost your damned mind?"  
  
Bulma's eyes widened dramatically, and reached out a hand to Maylene's cheek, to see if she was really there. "Maylene? How...?"  
  
Her friend decided not to tell her about Byron yet, just in case the fool was killed. "After Yamcha stripped me of my title and near close to everything else, I moved to the outskirts of the city. I've been living there like a fucking pauper ever since. When this all started, I joined up with a group of people who stayed in the city. And its a good thing that I did, too, because these two found me." She winked at Bulma with all the humor that she could muster. "They wouldn't have gotten anywhere without me, of course."  
  
With a wince, Bulma began to sit up. Maylene helped her, and when she was upright, the woman immediately swept up her injured, tortured friend in an embrace. Maylene's eyes teared, and Bulma began to weep. For their parts, Magdalene and Chichi watched with warmth on their faces.  
  
"I never thought that I'd see you again," Bulma muttered into Maylene's shoulder. "I always wanted to find you, but he was always watching me."  
  
"I was watching you almost the whole time," Maylene told her a bit smugly. "I saw you whenever you would make public appearances, and when you came back from Vejitasei. You looked so terrible, B-- I had half a mind to approach Yamcha and assasinate him myself."  
  
The two separated, their eyes taking each other in for a moment. They had both changed more than they could have imagined. Maylene looked wiser, more serious than the carefree, troublemaking girl that Bulma used to know, and as for Bulma herself... needless to say, Maylene was having trouble taking it all in.  
  
"Look at us," she whispered sadly. "What happened to those girls we used to know?"  
  
"They're dead," Bulma replied, her blue eyes darkening to the color of the storm clouds that had enveloped their adolescent dreams. The blue orbs came to rest on the bandages on her arms. "Everyone we used to know is."  
  
"I hate to interuppt, but your charming husband won't leave you alone here forever," Magdalene cut in gently. "We have to think of something. He'll recognize us from a mile away."  
  
Maylene stubbornly ignored her, having eyes only for Bulma at the moment. "Why did you do it?" she asked, reaching out to touch a finger to the makeshift bandages on her friend's arms. "What good did you think that this would do?"  
  
Bulma turned her face away from the accusing eyes of her friend, her matted locks hiding her face. To her surprise, she felt shame. "I don't know," she said under her breath. "The first cut was the only one that hurt."  
  
"We're lucky that you did do it," Magdalene said reluctantly. "If you hadn't, Vejita most likely wouldn't be on his way right now. He felt something... he saw you hurting yourself I think."  
  
"This isn't right," Bulma said. "He shouldn't be coming now. Yamcha's anger is fresh. I don't know if he can hurt him, since Vejita is so much stronger, but something... something's going to happen. I know it."  
  
"What could possibly happen?" Maylene demanded of her. "I've heard some pretty unbelieveable stories about your new lover, dear, and it sounds like Yamcha met his match and then some."  
  
"That's how it should be," Bulma whispered. Maylene pretended not to hear. "Perhaps its just me. Lets just keep an extra eye out. Please."  
  
Chichi watched the door warily. "You aren't expecting any company anytime soon, are you?"  
  
"I don't know. They don't tell me anything. Yamcha's most likely with his generals..." Bulma's voice trailed off, and it was clear to see that she was still feeling weak and lightheaded.  
  
"You need medical attention," Magdalene pointed out. "I wish that this were all over with so that we can go about setting things right again."  
  
Maylene sat closer to Bulma and put a supporting arm around her shoulders. For the moment, the fact that one of them was a queen and the other an exiled noble was forgotten. "What will become of Earth when this is all over?" she asked Magdalene. "Will you leave and let us run ourselves again?"  
  
"That is not my decision to make." Magdalene's green eyes were steely. "Not anymore."  
  
"What do you mean?" Bulma asked. "You are the Queen of Vejitasei."  
  
It pained Magdalene to have to tell Bulma about the shortcomings (which were much more numerous as of late) of her future mate, but she had to answer the question. "After you left, and we were sure that there would be a war, Vejita ascended the throne."  
  
"But why? I had thought that you still wanted to rule--"  
  
"I did," Magdalene said dryly. "He took it by force." At the alarmed look on Bulma's already distressed countenance, she quickly corrected herself. "Don't ever think that he is in any way like your husband, Bulma. He gave me his word that he would step down once this is all over. He merely took the control so that he could moniter the war situation better. You know how he is."  
  
Bulma nodded slightly. She looked a little bit sick, but Magdalene guessed that she would be fine for the moment.  
  
"I'm landing right now," Vejita's voice snapped from the communicator in Magdalene's skirt. "We landed right in the middle of the damned market to save some time. Hopefully we didn't crush too many of those human bastards." His last comment couldn't even pass for halfway sincere. "It won't take me long to get there."  
  
"How comforting," Magdalene spoke back. "You remember my warning about that group of rebels, don't you?"  
  
"Yes," he replied. "Its bullshit. How the fuck are a bunch of weakling refugees supposed to help me?"  
  
"More than you might think. They know the palace, and the people running it. You can save some time if you use them. Besides that..." She glanced over at Bulma, but the woman's eyes were glazed over once again, perhaps to shut out pain or reality. Or perhaps both. "their leader is an acquaintance of Bulma. It would be kind of you to spare at least his life." Or give him a speedy death.  
  
"I'll think about it."  
  
"She's getting stronger," Magdalene said. She knew she didn't have to say Bulma's name. "She's conscious, at least. Her arms have some nasty cuts, though. She's going to need some stitching as soon as we can arrange for a doctor. I'm thinking of taking her somewhere safe, so that she doesn't have to go through any trauma."  
  
"No!" Bulma called out with surprising urgency from behind her. "I'm- I'm fine. I want to be there."  
  
"Don't be foolish, woman," Vejita responded. "You don't have the stomach to watch what I'm going to do to that little worm."  
  
"I've lived with, even slept with, that man for countless years," Bulma said through gritted teeth. "You cannot honestly keep me from being there when he is killed. If I weren't... weak... right now I would do it myself."  
  
"Make sure that she's out of harm's way," the Saiyan King ordered Magdalene.   
  
"When will you be here?" his mother asked.  
  
There was a heavy silence on the other end, and then it was broken by Vejita's thick voice. "You'll know."  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
******   
  
(A/N): Well, finals are over at last! I'm sooo glad that I made it through (almost) alive. I promise you that this is the last 'filler chapter' before things start happening. I just have to add in the suspense and all that... I am, above all, an emotional writer (that one was for you, Debido).   
  
Everyone but the reviewer Maia, ignore this: I'm sorry if you hate this fic and think its a rip-off, but I can't do much to help you there. Perhaps you should look for another story-- one that's original and ground-breaking enough for you. Good luck with that venture, and I hope that you aren't further wasting your time by reading the rest of this shitty fic (considering that you only read Chapter One and judged me) and therefore encountering this little love note.   
  
To the rest of you: I love you and thank you for your generosity in reviewing as usual. And thanks for the birthday wishes! ^_^ Ja ne! (Wow I can change moods fast!)  
  
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	37. Part Five: 37

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Valyn and Turles watched Vejita carefully as their ship landed right in the middle of the capital city. From the sounds of their landing, there was minimal damage done to the ship because of the tight space that they had descended into, but nothing more than that, thank Kami.  
  
"I don't think that this is wise," Turles grumbled, so that Vejita would not hear. "Yamcha will have time to prepare for us now. He's probably slitting the girl's throat as we speak."  
  
"Don't ever say those words again," Valyn snapped. His mood had been dark ever since the news of their early departure, and the for good reason-- he was supposed to be behind the war planning here, and now he was being shoved to the back burner. "You're lucky that he can't hear us, you fool."  
  
"I don't care if he does hear us." Turles crossed his arms and did not sound in the least sincere, but Valyn knew better than to bruise his touchy Saiyan ego any more than necessary, so he was silent.  
  
Little did they know, Vejita had heard every word they said. Now that he was so close to killing Yamcha and getting Bulma back, he hardly cared what they said about him and his state of mind anymore. He kept his attention strictly on the view of the city streets from the control room window, tuning out the sounds of his men preparing to venture out.  
  
An enormous weight had been lifted off of his shoulders when Magdalene had told him that Bulma was conscious. Not that he would ever admit it, but he was glad that he had agreed to let she and her handmaiden go down there. Now that he knew her condition, he could put his attention on other things. Also, he wouldn't have to waste any time searching for her now. He made a mental note to only insult his mother lightly after this was all over. Call it his special form of gratitude.  
  
What had relieved him even more was hearing Bulma's voice protesting. He had been dreading the very real possibility that she would never recover from her traumatic experiences all along. She was far from being in the clear yet, because Kami knew that what he was going to do to Yamcha was damaging enough in itself. Unconsciously, he sighed, which caught the attention of the men around him-- King Vejita never sighed. When he recovered her from that rat bastard, he would immediately put her under the care of his royal physician, whether she protested or not. He would take any unnecessary risks where she was concerned; and that was about the only area of his life where he wouldn't.   
  
Meanwhile, he was going to find Yamcha, beat him into a pulp, and then torture him until the floor was pooled with his blood, and the man screamed for mercy that would never come...  
  
"Your Majesty," one of his general's voices interuppted. "We're ready to enter the city."  
  
Vejita shook off his murderous daydreams with difficulty and glared at the man who had interuppted them. "Don't you think I know that?! I can see the city right in fucking front of me, you idiot! Instead of wasting your time informing me of things that I already know, why don't you go and prepare your men like you're supposed to be doing!" His harsh, abrupt tone of voice startled all present, and suddenly everyone went about their tasks with renewed concentration.  
  
The unfortunate man bowed hastily, then scurried off to do his king's bidding. Vejita watched him leave, shaking his head. Other people's stupidity never failed to baffle him. The only person he wanted to hear from right now was Bardock and his useless son, who had failed to check in at their landing time. He had plans for them.  
  
As if on cue, Turles approached him. "Bardock and Kakkarott are here, Vejita-sama. They say that you requested their presence." He was careful of his words, Vejita noticed. That was good-- he wanted his displeasure with the two men to be well known, more for their humiliation than for his own needs.  
  
"Bring them over."  
  
The two approached him cautiously, their identical dopey brown eyes watching his every move. Vejita could not help but roll his own black eyes-- he woud be a fool to waste his energy on killing them right now.  
  
"Since I'm not one to waste words on trash such as yourselves," Vejita savored the resentful look on Bardock's face at his words. "I'll get straight to it. Bardock, you are in charge of keeping the human army away from the palace. I want Yamcha to be on his own. Kill anyone who dares to get close-- we'll take no prisoners. Kakkarott, you will fight alongside the rest of your kind, killing off anyone who approaches the palace. I've sent for Nappa and Radditz to help you-- they'll be arriving here shortly. I expect you, Bardock, to give up control of this assignment to them when they arrive."  
  
"Yes, Vejita-sama," Bardock consented. "But don't you think that we would be more useful--"  
  
"No."  
  
Kakkarott attempted this time. "But father and I are so much more powerful when we're--"  
  
"No!" Vejita exclaimed. "Kami-dammit, did you two orchestrate this new form of torture? Shut up and go do your jobs like good little servants!"  
  
The two reluctantly left. Turles and Valyn watched them go, with some disbelief. Vejita had just brushed aside some of his most powerful warriors like it was nothing. Not that any of them would have dared to say anything about it.  
  
Vejita stood, pushed his chair aside, and surveyed the dirty city streets before his window. All of the men in the room were silent, awaiting his orders. When he turned to them, his grimace was replaced with a devious, almost glowing smirk.  
  
"Let's go give Magdalene her signal."  
  
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Byron was sitting out on the street, just outside the dwelling of his group of rebels, when the explosions started. Startled, he jumped to his feet, immediately on the defensive. He had seen the ships begin to descend upon the city, but he hadn't been keeping a close eye on them-- he had been too occupied trying to calm his impossible (and unexpected) nerves. Somehow, he was having trouble trying to get the Saiyan Queen's words of warning out of his head. Would this king actually listen, or would he just kill him without Byron getting a word in edgewise?  
  
He did not have time to dwell on that thought, because the explosions started again, and flames that seemed impossibly high suddenly rose above the horizon. Judging from the familiar buildings in that direction, they were only a few minutes away. Byron stared at the flames for a moment more, wondering what on Earth was left in the abandoned city for them to destroy, then rushed towards the haven of his company.  
  
"They're here!" he called through the doorway. Alarmed faces stared blankly back at him. "Prepare yourselves, and remember-- no backtalk, and for Kami's sake don't look too afraid of them!" Hurriedly, he pulled his head back out and rushed back to the street, where he had a clearer view of the destruction.  
  
"What if they should prove hostile, sir?" a man asked as he stepped out onto the street, along with the majority of the group. "What would we do then?"  
  
Byron's stomach tightened at the thought, but he knew that these people were looking up to him, so he put on a good face. "Then we'll hide-- we'll use brains instead of brawn to escape them." He then shook his head, as if this was a completely ridiculous idea anyway. "I don't think that we'll have to worry about it, though. Those Saiyan women sent word back to their king about us. It'll be just fine."  
  
The man and the others looked only slightly reassured, but they stopped their questioning. Chattering amongst themselves, they gathered around Byron to stare in the direction of the explosions. They seemed to be getting closer-- and fast.  
  
"They'll be here at any moment now!" Byron warned them all. "Get inside for the moment... I'll tell you when to come out."  
  
Alone on the street with his fears, Byron waited for them.  
  
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Vejita stepped off of the ship behind his men with an expression of disgust. Already he could tell that this was not going to be a planet that his people would be vacationing on. The air seemed stale and unclean, and there wasn't a tree or even a plant in sight. In his mind, plans for great industrial cities began to form. He could not act on them now, but he would make it a point to do so later. Earth could prove to be a great manufacturing planet, considering that the humans had depleted much of its valuable natural resources already.  
  
His men waited around for him to instruct them, which he gladly did. "You know the rules-- no prisoners, and remember to look out for a particular group of humans. They should be grouped together somewhere. You're going to have to give the people you encounter a chance to speak before you kill them-- this group is going to claim to want to help us. If you find them, don't hurt them too badly and report to me. Besides that..." He trailed off with a lopsided grin. "Have fun."  
  
The Saiyans began their tirade through the city streets with enthusiasm, laughing as they went. They randomly destroyed houses and ransacked what they could, but there were no people to be found. As for Vejita, he didn't participate-- he was saving his energy and anger for Yamcha. Vejita found himself feeling disappointed that at least his men weren't getting an outlet for their own frustrations. However, a glance behind him revealed a scorched path and crumbling remnants of buildings; perhaps they were enjoying themselves after all.  
  
A scream cut through the dull roar that his men were making. Vejita glanced in that general direction with little interest. The men were in the process of killing a man who was little more than skin and bones. Slim pickings, he thought to himself dryly. There wasn't even enough flesh on the man to initiate torture.  
  
They continued on like this for several minutes, and Vejita's thoughts began to wander away from the destruction and towards Bulma again, who was getting ever closer. He was getting nothing from her, so he guessed that she wasn't experiencing any overwhelming emotion. This was when he remembered something.  
  
"You!" he called out to a man who was burning something close by. The man froze and waited for his orders. "Do you see that building over there?" He gestured to the largest one nearby, a clay building that looked to be around ten stories high. The man nodded. "Destroy it, and create as much noise as you can."  
  
The ensuing explosion seemed to rock the city, and an enormous cloud of dust rose into the sky, as well as smoke and flames. Vejita smirked in satisfaction and picked up his communicator.  
  
"Was that a clear enough signal for you?" he smugly asked of Magdalene.  
  
"What are you doing out there?" she demanded in reply. "I suggest that you stop playing around so that we can get this whole ordeal over with! I can't understand why you don't just--"  
  
Vejita shut off the device, sick of the sound of his mother's condescending voice. Who was the ruler around here anyway? Certainly not her anymore, he mused with a chuckle. He thought of how hard it was going to be to honor his promise and give up the throne when this was all over. He couldn't even picture himself doing such a thing! Besides, Magdalene was getting up in years anyway, and it wasn't like her influence would be diminished too much. It was past time for fresh leadership, in Vejita's opinion. Vejitasei had been sitting idle for far too long. Vaguely he remembered the days when his tryant father had ruled, and the soldiers were always busy increasing the empire. Even though his father had been a terrible man and cruel leader, he had known what was best for the Saiyans, and look where they were now!  
  
Kakkarott then came running back to Vejita, pushing through the crowd of soldiers, his face lit up with excitement. "We found them, Vejita-sama!" he called. "We found those humans!"  
  
Vejita grimaced at Kakkarott's zeal and nodded. "How many?"  
  
"Uhh," Kakkarott said. "I didn't exactly count them all..."  
  
"No, dumbass, how many would you estimate are there?"   
  
"Thirty or forty," he replied. "They're over here."  
  
The men parted for Vejita, and soon he was led to where the humans were. Bardock was talking to a young man who appeared to be the leader (and also very intimidated, by the way), while a few other men kept the rest of the trembling group inside a building nearby. Everyone stopped chattering when Vejita approached them.  
  
"What's going on here?" Vejita demanded in the human language, crossing his arms.  
  
Byron let the other Saiyan answer. He could not keep his eyes off of the Saiyan King who had just approached them. He took in the man's solid build, strong arms, and darkly handsome features and could see why Bulma had been attracted to him. A pang of jealously overwhelmed him for a moment. The Saiyan King spoke in an (over)confident, though accented, voice, and an aura of power seemed to radiate off of him. Even his men were terrified of him. Byron's hopes disipated with the knowledge that he would never be able to compete with this armored Saiyan. In his mind, he knew that he could never get her back, but in his heart he refused to believe it.  
  
"Why would you want to help me take over your own planet, human?" Vejita asked of him. Byron got the impression that this man could sqaush him like an insect, and also that he was only humoring him with these questions. "Are you some kind of traitor?"  
  
Byron wanted to sink down into the ground, but he forced himself to at least keep his gaze locked on Vejita's face-- he could not meet his eyes for more than a second. "Yamcha's the traitor. Only a traitor would kill his own father to get the throne, and only an asshole would treat his queen that way."  
  
"She's not his anything anymore," Vejita retorted with a smirk, leading Byron to suspiciously wonder just how far his relationship with his ex-girlfriend had gone. How many times had he bedded her, exactly?  
  
Byron's hopes took a beating once again. Hearing about Bulma's affair with this man was one thing, but hearing it straight from one of the participants was quite another. He swallowed hard. "Nonetheless, we just want to aid you in whatever way we can. It would be better for you to rule us than for men like Yamcha to."  
  
"How could you possibly be of any help to me?" Vejita asked incredulously. A smirk of amusement tugged at the corners of his lips, despite the seriousness of the issue. "You could be crushed by even the weakest of our women, human."  
  
"We know our way around the city and the palace, and besides that," Byron said. "I was a noblemen and an active member of the court before Yamcha banished me. I know him better than most anyone else here."  
  
Bardock spoke up from beside Vejita cautiously. "He's right, Vejita-sama. He and his followers could help us. They might even know where Yamcha's army is camping. We could attack them before they even get a chance to come after us."  
  
Vejita growled at Bardock for speaking, but appeared to be at least considering his words reluctantly. "Fine. You'll follow my men. Don't get in their way, and don't open your mouth, or else I can't promise that you won't be harmed. When we get to the palace, you will come with me, but the others are on their own, got it?" He didn't even wait for Byron's response. "Good. You'd better walk fast, or else you'll be left behind."  
  
Vejita turned away and he and his men continued towards the palace. Byron made a point of sticking close behind Vejita, and his followers filed out of the building timidly to fall in step beside the Saiyan warriors.   
  
"We've picked up a bunch of worthless tagalongs," Vejita suddenly hissed into a thing that Byron took to be some kind of communication device. "I assume that they're the group you mentioned."  
  
The unmistakeable voice of the Saiyan Queen that Byron had met earlier replied, "I'm somewhat shocked that you didn't kill them. Where are you now?"  
  
"A few minutes away," Vejita said. "Is she still conscious?"  
  
"For the most part," Magdalene replied. Byron listened intently, for they must have been talking about Bulma. "She's fading in and out. I told you before, she needs treatment for those cuts, not to mention for the emotional trauma." She paused uncertainly for a moment. "It might take a while for her to be like her old self again."  
  
"Her old self!" Byron exclaimed, not knowing what he was doing. "She hasn't been her old self in a decade at least!"  
  
Vejita whirled around to glare at him. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he snapped. "You eavesdropping piece of shit!" He motioned to a soldier nearby. "You, make sure that the human stays out of hearing distance! If he struggles, kill him."  
  
Byron let the other Saiyan manhandle him further away from Vejita, his face devoid of all color. He had made a grave mistake. If Vejita found out that he had been previously involved with Bulma, there could be trouble. He imagined briefly the kinds of torture he might be exposed to, and shuddered. The man guarding him growled, and Byron was still.  
  
"Do you have any idea where Yamcha is now?" Vejita asked, once Byron was safely out of earshot. He didn't quite know what it was, but something about that human made him extremely angry.   
  
"No. He hasn't shown his face since we got here. Perhaps he's waiting for you."  
  
Vejita scowled and glanced over his shoulder at Byron, who adopted the look of a deer caught in headlights. "You can be assured that we'll make it there in haste. I don't want to deal with this pissant for any longer than I have to."  
  
"By whatever means necessary," Magdalene replied.   
  
Vejita shut off the communicator and pressed on, his black eyes fixed on the palace. It wouldn't be long now. The memory of Bulma's musical voice, light touch, and perhaps most of all her enthralling face, drove him to move faster. It was a rare occasion that the Saiyan King didn't get what he wanted when he wanted it, and this drove him to achieve his goal more efficiently.  
  
Behind him, Byron was dragged along at what seemed to him to be a ridiculous pace by the Saiyan guard. He fought the urge to struggle. He and his people were being treated like prisoners, not allies, and that was a blow to his noble ego, fragile as it was nowadays.   
  
  
  
The men around him guffawed and joked with each other as they destroyed the city, seemingly uncaring about whether anyone was inside or not. Behind where Byron was being led, he could hear some of the foreign warriors mildly terrorizing his people, and he felt resentment boiling up inside of him.  
  
  
  
"You-- boy." Vejita turned to him, speaking the condescending tones that one would use with a child. "We're entering right through the front door. Are there any problems with that?" He was asking in sarcasm, not seriousness, and Byron could clearly see that he saw hardly any benefit in taking them along. He was merely doing it for his mother's favor-- or possibly Bulma's.  
  
"No, not at all," Byron responded, secretly hoping deep inside that the fearless man would be ambushed at the doors.   
  
"I feel so much better after hearing your expert opinion on the matter," the king assured him mockingly. The men around them chuckled, and the evil sound made the hair on the back of Byron's neck rise. "I'll be asking for your advice about battle tactics soon, so be ready."  
  
Byron looked down at his feet to shut out the men's laughter. Before this, he had thought himself rather thick-hided, but coming from the Saiyans, every insult seemed to be steeped in especially poisonous venom.   
  
As his eyes came to rest on the back of Vejita's proud head, he knew that he would hate him and his kind forever, no matter what Bulma might say.  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
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(A/N): *Dodges the rotten tomatoes thrown at her from the impatient reviewers* Remember, guys-- patience is a virtue! I know that I promised some people a chapter posted this last weekend, but I kind of burned out by the end of the week. I'm feeling especially stressed lately... -_-; I have a week-long break coming up though, so maybe my energy will return. Before I leave you so that you can leave a particularly long and pleasant review (^_~), I want to recommend that you all go and read Debido's fics. He is a pretty flawless writer, and has the best mind for detail that I've seen in a long time. You'll kill yourself trying to find a loophole in his plots, believe me! *Pushes back the green-eyed monster, AKA jealousy* I promise that you'll enjoy yourself! On that note, I leave you once again.... Please remember to review!  
  
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	38. Part Five: 38

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Maylene started when the explosions coming from the city started up again. Some of them seemed to shake the foundations of the palace itself. Magdalene and Chichi ignored the sounds like they were birds singing on a sunny spring morning.  
  
Wringing her hands behind her back, she turned to them. "They can do this with their bare hands?"  
  
"Not with their bare hands," Chichi corrected her. Her eyes grew distant at the reminder of Kakkarott. "With their ki's -- their energy. They can control it and wield it as a weapon."  
  
  
  
"Or they can use it for protection against cold or gunshots in some cases," Magdalene added from her seat beside Bulma, whose head of abundant curls was still in her lap, cradled by the Saiyan's caring hands. "Humans, I suppose, could do it too, but I don't know that your weaker bodies could handle it as well as ours could."  
  
"Is that so?" Maylene wondered at the possibilties. "In that case, maybe someone should go and tell Yamcha about it..." She showed a hint of her cynical smile.  
  
"Let's avoid talking about him for now," Bulma suggested quietly. Her blue eyes remained closed. "Believe me, we'll be seeing enough of him in due time."  
  
Another blast sounded, this time unmistakeably close to the palace. From through the stained glass windows, Maylene could make out a cloud of debris rising above the city, hardly a few blocks away. She hurried to her feet and crossed the room to the window.  
  
"They're here!" she exclaimed in relief. "They're barely a half-mile away!"  
  
"Vejita's at the palace doors, but where's Yamcha?" Magdalene wondered. "Its highly unlikely that he wouldn't find a reason to check on Bulma so far. We've been too lucky -- I have a feeling that our little vacation will be over soon."  
  
"He'll come here when Vejita enters the palace," Bulma assured them. "He wants to meet him here, where they can battle without interupption. He's a coward, above all else -- he'll run here."  
  
"Its far too late for Kami to have mercy on anybody," Magdalene commented dryly, looking about her as if noticing that they were in a church for the first time.   
  
As she said this, she gave Bulma a gentle, comforting hug. As her hand slipped near to the younger woman's abdomen, a strange energy registered in her mind. Furrowing her eyebrows, she pretended to hold Bulma close, but was really searching for the cause behind her feeling. Magdalene's hand rested on Bulma's flat stomach for just a few moments, but those short seconds were enough. More than enough. She was about to realize just how ironic her words really were, because in that brief time, she had detected a small, emerging ki signature in Bulma's womb -- a weak, human ki signature.  
  
"Thank you..." Bulma suddenly said to Magdalene quietly, offering a small smile. That gesture made Magdalene's heart contract painfully. "For everything. If you hadn't come here, I don't know what I would have done."  
  
"You're quite welcome, dear," Magdalene assured her, faking a smile in return. She took in the already dampened spirit behind the girl's normally bright blue eyes, and it killed her to think that she might have to go through even more pain. The possibility that she was carrying a child -- Yamcha's child no less -- would crush what little bit was left of her. "You're so welcome..."  
  
Shattering the quiet mood, the doors of the church flew open, and a thin, cloaked figure entered the room. The four women, including Bulma, craned their neck in surprise, getting a closer look at the intruder. The person took their hood down, revealing snowy-white curls arranged in perfect braids, cornflower blue eyes, and a tight, stiff smile. Lady Briefs.  
  
"Well, well, well," the noblewomen said as she strode down the aisle towards them, supposedly without fear. "What have we here? The damsel in distress, a queen without her guards, and a loyal handmaiden." Then her cold eyes moved to Maylene, and the corners of her lips turned down in disapproval. "Maylene -- formerly known as Lady Maylene -- I had never thought that I'd have the displeasure of seeing you again. I thought that Yamcha had gotten rid of you years ago."  
  
"He tried," Maylene said, her chin lifted. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Lady Briefs stood at the front row of pews now, her hands resting on her corset-covered hips. "I'm here to see the show," she replied. "From the sound of it, the Saiyan brute will be here at any moment."  
  
Bulma laughed bitterly from Magdalene's lap. "Nonsense, Mother. You're here to see if you can benefit from whatever happens. That is the only reason that you would risk your precious neck."  
  
"Come dear," her mother retorted. "Of course I came here to be sure that you were safe."  
  
Magdalene narrowed her sharp green eyes, and somewhere inside, Lady Briefs felt that this equally bold woman was a threat to her. She didn't like the feeling. "It would be wise to watch your words, m'lady. You mock the mate of the man who has the power to destroy this entire planet."  
  
"Is that what she is?" Lady Briefs said. "The 'mate' of this man? I knew that you were all animals. I also should have known that Bulma would be stupid enough to fall into your trap."  
  
Maylene's eyes flashed with anger. "Watch how you speak, my lady. I've watched you torment Bulma for her entire life, and now that I have no title or reputation to lose, I'm certainly not above killing you myself!"  
  
"Leave her be," Chichi interuppted, malice apparent. "I want to watch her die slowly, at the hands of the people that she has so kindly called 'animals'."  
  
Lady Briefs grinned and primly took a seat on the front pew, her white hands folded in her lap. Magdalene watched her carefully, and did not miss the faint outline of a dagger hilt underneath her fine skirts as she sat down. The woman was armed, and for a reason. The Saiyan Queen wondered just how this woman thought she was going to affect the upcoming battle.  
  
"Kami mocks me," Bulma moaned under her breath to Magdalene. "He's sent my mother to watch perhaps the most precarious situation I've ever been in, to gloat at our every mistake."  
  
"Ignore the wrinkled old bitch," Magdalene ordered her with motherly protectivenes, even though it did seem that the gods were picking on Bulma. "Even Kami couldn't bring himself to favor such a sullen woman."  
  
Maylene kept her eyes on Bulma's wily mother. She very much doubted that she would be able to do much once Vejita and his men arrived, but dread hung heavy in her stomach. Wherever Lady Briefs went, controversy always followed. She, too, had noticed the outline of a weapon underneath the woman's skirts as they were smoothed across her lap. Of course, she had known that the woman would have at least a dagger. Lady Briefs might have been many things, but stupid was not one of them. In her mind, she relived the times when Lady Briefs had dominated the royal court, putting her selfish influence on Yamcha and corrupting the minds of those whom she consorted with. Her hands clenched in anger, and she suddenly couldn't wait for the fighting to start.  
  
Magdalene kept a careful eye on Lady Briefs, trying to judge if the woman would pick up on anything strange in the air, and gripped Bulma a little bit tighter. Frightening thoughts about what Vejita might do if he discovered that Bulma was pregnant with Yamcha's child entered her mind, and the Saiyan Queen knew that if she didn't do something quick, the battle could be over before it even started. In her embrace Bulma unknowingly awaited the entrance of Vejita.  
  
Elsewhere in the palace, Yamcha also heard the explosions, and every one was like an Arctic wind down his spine. He quickly set up a simple defense plan for the entrance of the palace, ordered his waiting army to attack, and hurried through the palace halls to the church where his wife was being kept, accompanied by only four personal guards. At his waist was a loaded gun and a long sword, both of which he planned to employ for the murder of the Saiyan King.  
  
When he entered the church, he was not prepared to see Bulma accompanied by a small crowd. Not only was Lady Briefs sitting in the front pew as if waiting for a play to begin, but Queen Magdalene of the Saiyans was there, as well as another Saiyan woman whom Yamcha did not recognize. Also unexpectedly, the former Lady Maylene stood by the altar, her trademark hazel eyes locked suspiciously onto Lady Briefs. Even more surprising was the dried puddle of blood and trail of crimson that followed Bulma to Magdalene's lap. Even from this distance, Yamcha could see the stained bandages on her arms and the discarded dagger a short distance away. He put two and two together quickly, and it infuriated him.  
  
"What the hell has been going on?!" he demanded as he stormed down the aisle to the front of the church. The women stared at him like he was some sort of alien at first, then collectively adopted expressions of anger, save for Lady Briefs, who smiled, and Bulma, who turned her face away. "Is this a party that I wasn't invited to?"  
  
Magdalene glared. "We're here to protect Bulma, you cowardly son of a bitch. The better question is, what are you doing here when you should be out fighting Vejita, like a real man?" Her hopes of somehow helping Bulma before Vejita arrived were disipating like dust on the wind.  
  
"I want that filth to come to me," Yamcha snapped, stopping in front of the raised area that the women stood on. "Now move away from my wife, before I have my guards dispose of you!"  
  
"What's the matter, Yamcha?" Maylene taunted. "Too afraid to get your hands dirty?"  
  
"I wouldn't waste my energy on you," he replied. "Now move away from her, or else they'll create a new hole for you to bitch out of!"  
  
"If you want me to move," Magdalene informed him, maintaing her iron grip on Bulma. "you'll have to come over here and do it yourself!" Then, her sharp tongue got the better of her. "You dumb prick! Don't you see the scars on Bulma's arms? Can you not see what you've done?! Even if you do win this fight, which is highly unlikely, your wife would rather slay herself than bed with the likes of you again! Don't you understand? No matter the outcome of this battle, you've lost!"  
  
"That's where you're wrong," Yamcha said. "How can Bulma kill herself when she has no weapon to do it with? I'll never make the mistake of leaving her unattended again. Now remove yourself -- this is your final warning."  
  
"No," Magdalene said firmly. "I won't--"  
  
All of a sudden, another explosion rocked the palace, causing some bits of the ceiling to come raining down on them. Yamcha's guards turned in shock at the sound.  
  
"The front doors, sire!" they exclaimed. "It sounds like they've been blown open!"  
  
"Can it!" Yamcha ordered impatiently, as if Vejita's entrance into the palace was useless news. "Get them away from my wife! Now!"  
  
Magdalene scrambled for an idea as the men approached her. Chichi was nervously backing towards the windows (a wise move, considering her pregnancy), and Maylene was standing her ground, jaw set determinedly. Bulma's eyes were open and fixed onto Yamcha now, and her face was contorted into an expression of dread. Magdalene could feel her trembling beneath her hands. Protectively, she put herself between the men and their queen. "I could take you both down if I chose to," she warned. This was true in a normal case, but the me had swords, and she wasn't sure that she would be able to defeat them with that advantage. "I would advise against coming any closer."  
  
The guards didn't say anything, just came at her. When they seized her arms, Magdalene broke free of their grip, but when their swords were drawn, she gave up her struggle. Helplessly, she let them drag her over to the windows, where Chichi was standing. Maylene was placed beside her by the other two men, but she kicked and screamed the entire way. Lady Briefs was allowed to remain. She watched the display with blatant amusement.  
  
"What's the matter, Magdalene?" Yamcha asked. "Ashamed of being defeated by humans?"  
  
"You'll soon know the real meaning of defeat," Maylene hissed. "When you're taken down, I'm going to come over and claw your eyes out, you -- " The guard closest to her cuffed her across the cheek, and she resigned herself to glowering silently.  
  
Yamcha stepped up onto the raised section of the church, towards Bulma. He paused for a moment when he reached the largest puddle of blood, scowled, then continued towards her. Bulma, who had propped herself up against the altar, turned her face away from him.   
  
"Why did you do this?" Yamcha asked her firmly, taking her arms into his hands and examining the dirty bandages. Bulma let out a little sound of pain. "You little cunt -- did you honestly think that this would change anything?"  
  
Her lips set in a tight line, but she said nothing.  
  
Yamcha's eyes slitted, then he delivered a slap to her face. Bulma's face recoiled at the blow. She had been caught unawares; she was unbalanced, and almost fell over. A few tears trailed down her face. Magdalene could hardly watch her already damaged spirit being pushed down again. But a tiny part of her, the part that she despised, wished that Yamcha's violence would at least kill the unborn baby. Beside her, Maylene resumed her frantic struggle.  
  
"When Vejita gets here, I shall delight in him seeing you like this," Yamcha whispered to her. "Damaged, with your impeccable beauty marred. I hardly think that he would want you like this. You aren't a blushing, innocent maiden anymore, are you? I'm the only one who will take you now..." Magdalene cringed at his words, and the bit of truth that might be behind them.  
  
His wife squeezed her eyes shut in mental pain and tried to separate herself from her body, but to no avail. She was trapped again. "Stop," she breathed, almost inaudibly.  
  
Yamcha laughed. "Stop? Not in this lifetime. You've been a bad girl, and for that I must punish you."  
  
Just as he raised his hand to strike her again, the doors literally fell from their hinges, and revealed the large forms of two warriors -- Turles and Valyn. Yamcha replaced his hand by his side (with one hand still gripping Bulma's arm) and watched them expectantly. From her vantage point behind him, Magdalene saw that his free hand was shaking.  
  
The men entered the church, followed by Vejita, whose aura of power glowed an eerie blue around him, and Byron, who wore a cloak with its hood pulled up over his head. Magdalene felt dread grip her stomach like a vise, and not because she afraid that her son would lose. The men who held her and Chichi released their grip and took a step back. The Saiyan Queen gladly moved from their grip and past Yamcha.  
  
"Its about time you got here," she half-scolded her son. "Kill him quickly, and without delay. Bulma needs a doctor." She off-handedly hoped that Vejita would be too distracted to look at Bulma's ki signature too closely. With any luck, the tiny human ki would be too weak to find from that distance anyway.  
  
Vejita looked carelessly past her to where Bulma lay on the floor, held fast by Yamcha's arm. His sharp eyes narrowed at the sight of her bandages, and also from the dried blood that encrusted the floor a short distance away. He had known of her attempted suicide from Magdalene, but seeing the evidence of it in person, seeing the actual red stains that had come from the lifeblood of his would-be mate... that was something else entirely. His black eyes became tinged with red.  
  
"I'll kill him in whatever way I choose," he said to Magdalene through gritted teeth. "And of all the possible ways I could do it, quickly will not be one of them."  
  
"That's a bold statement," Yamcha said boastfully. "Why don't you make good on that promise?" Assuredly, he signaled to his guards, who sprang forward towards Vejita, seemingly ignorant of just how mismatched they were.  
  
Vejita rolled his eyes, and in the seconds that it took for Turles and Valyn to dispose of the human guards, he had not moved a muscle. Yamcha watched his guards go down like fish in a barrel with only a little bit of surprise -- after all, he had witnessed firsthand the power of the average Saiyan warrior back on Vejitasei. When the men were killed, Turles and Valyn stepped away from the corpses and over to where Magdalene, Chichi, Maylene, and Bulma were. Magdalene, with the assistance of Turles, moved Bulma back nearer to the windows, and helped her to a sitting position. Lady Briefs gripped the sides of her skirts from her seat in the front pew, unsure of what was to happen to her.  
  
Quickly, Magdalene used the excuse of leading Bulma further away from the fight to get her hands on the woman's abdomen, and ejected a quick jolt of ki-energy into the area -- hopefully enough to destroy the growing being inside of her. Bulma flinched, and Magdalene offered an apologetic smile.  
  
"Just a bit of energy in case you need it, honey," she explained. With satisfaction, she noted that the tiny ki was gone now. Hopefully, Bulma wouldn't suffer too much as a result of the hastily-performed abortion. "Come closer to the windows, where you'll be safer." Surprisingly, she felt a little bit of guilt in killing Bulma's would-be first child, even if it was the product of rape, but she pushed the feelings aside.  
  
"Excuse me, Your Highness," Byron said from behind Vejita. With a grunt of displeasure, Vejita gave some of his attention to him. "But I think it would be a good idea to restrict Lady Briefs -- Bulma's mother. She may seem frail, but if I know anything about her, then I'd wager that she's armed and ready to manipulate what she can."  
  
Vejita's gaze shifted over to where Bulma's mother sat, and memories of hearing about her cruel treatment of Bulma came to mind. He didn't want to deal with her now, so he motioned to his men. "Make sure that she doesn't move a muscle. We'll deal with her later."  
  
Lady Briefs looked like she was about to protest, but after a second look at the burly men who were closely watching her, she gave up that option. Since Byron's hood was up, and she hadn't seen him in many years, Lady Briefs nor anyone else recognized him, besides Maylene, who shot a sideways glance at Bulma. The human queen had eyes only for Vejita, and was watching him with an expression of anticipation mixed with fear.  
  
"Are we done talking now?" Yamcha asked impatiently, taking out his sword. Vejita couldn't help but think of how ridiculous he looked with his pathetic piece of sharpened metal -- like a fool hoping to achieve some far-fetched feeling of chivalry that just didn't exist anymore. Warfare consisted of guns and ki now, except for on Earth it seemed.   
  
"In a few minutes, you'll be wishing that that's what we were here to do," Turles snapped.  
  
When Yamcha started to close the distance between Vejita and himself, Bulma fought feebly to free herself from Magdalene's gentle but commanding grasp unsuccessfully. Magdalene sensed her dread and put a comforting hand on the woman's soft hair, as if she were a child.  
  
"This must come to pass," she muttered to her. "The fighting can't end until it does."  
  
"Something's going to happen," Bulma said worriedly. "Release me!"  
  
Vejita and Yamcha's attention was drawn to the small struggle. Yamcha grinned at the frenzied state of his wife, but Vejita was much more passive. He hardly displayed emotion at all. The red tint in his eyes could be seen from the distance, and Magdalene knew he was struggling to pull himself out of the black hole that his bloodlust had created.  
  
"What's the matter, dearest?" Yamcha called out to her. "Worried for this poor Saiyan? Never fear, it'll be over soon."  
  
Maylene watched him in disgust. He was either incredibly stupid or filling his desperate mind with hopeful thoughts, she figured, because as far as they were concerned, he didn't have a chance. "Maybe you should stop stalling and get to this beating that you've been promising us!" she shouted at him.  
  
"Stay out of it, and keep your damned mouth shut!" Turles ordered her from behind Vejita. "We don't need a human wench distracting everyone!"  
  
"Human wench!" Maylene repeated incredulously. "Why you -- "  
  
Chichi cut her off with a quick placement of her hand over her mouth, and received a grateful nod from Turles. Briefly, she had the urge to ask him where Kakkarott was, but decided not to. Judging from the way Vejita looked, now was not the time to mention his least favorite warrior.  
  
Yamcha shut out all of the outside distractions and concentrated on his foe. Vejita was waiting to meet his eyes, his blue aura of power radiating around him like fire. A chill went up the human king's spine, because in the Saiyan's eyes he saw his own death. Uncertainly, he changed his grip on his sword and lunged towards him.  
  
Vejita dodged the blow without any effort and did so repeatedly, watching with half-interest, as Yamcha stupidly chased him around in a circle. The man swung his sword around like a playful child, Vejita observed. Finally, he got sick of moving around to elude the man's useless weapon and with one clean move, smacked the sword from Yamcha's hands. Yamcha watched with wide eyes as his sword went clattering across the floor to rest underneath the pews.  
  
"Well, that plan backfired," Vejita pointed out. "Do you have anything else for me before I kill you?"  
  
Yamcha was sputtering in anger. With shaky hands, he pulled his gun from his belt. "Let's see how well you can dodge bullets, son of a bitch!"  
  
He began to shoot at Vejita, who raised his ki to a golden glow, borderline Super Saiyan. He had been expecting it to be a normal gun, but when a couple bullets grazed right through his ki, he changed his course of action. A few grazed his legs and shoulders when he wasn't quite quick enough to move away, but that only bolstered his anger. With a sadistic smirk, he began to aim tiny bits of ki around Yamcha's feet, causing the human to dance around comically.  
  
"What the hell is he doing?" Magdalene grumbled to herself, from near the windows.   
  
Bulma had tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn't think that Vejita would be defeated, but she knew that some harm would come to their side from this fight, and watching Vejita prolong the match for longer than necessary only strengthened the feeling. "He's toying with him, and enjoying it."  
  
"I wish that you could communicate with him telepathically, like some Saiyan mates can," Magdalene said quietly. "Then you could at least relay your feelings to him. Maybe that would put some sense into him."  
  
Maylene shook her head, having overheard their words. "I'm actually enjoying this."  
  
Yamcha hopped around the aisle of the church frantically, darting away from the little ki blasts that Vejita was playfully aiming. When one caught him in the foot and burned him, he let out a small yelp, which caused Turles and Valyn to chuckle, and Vejita's smirk to grow.  
  
"What the fuck are you trying to pull?!" Yamcha shouted inbetween jumps. "Stop clowning around and fight me for real!"  
  
"While your offer is tempting," Vejita replied. "I'll have to politely decline." He started firing off more and more blasts, until Yamcha was getting repeatedly burned, and very red-faced. He then stopped, and crossed his arms, quickly getting sick of the lack of a challenge. "Fine then. If you want to fight 'for real', then aim and shoot again."  
  
Yamcha looked surprised at the twisted suggestion/invitation, but it seemed to him that he had no other choice, besides getting severely burned. Trembling, he lifted his gun and aimed.  
  
Vejita waited impatiently. "Come on -- aim the gun and fucking shoot me! You did it before, why is it so difficult now?"  
  
Bulma's face blanched in horror, and it was all that Magdalene could do to hold her back. "He's going to get himself killed just standing there, and then Ill be left here with Yamcha," she sputtered mindlessly.  
  
"Hush," Magdalene ordered impatiently. "Do you honestly think that he would invite Yamcha to shoot him again if he didn't have a way to survive the shots? Sometimes I think that you put too much faith in your instincts. If you protest for no reason again, I might have to make you shut up!"  
  
Bulma's eyes widened at the uncharacteristic threat. "What?"  
  
"I can't have you distracting him from this fight, however easy it may seem," Magdalene replied. "When something truly dangerous happens, then you can protest." She fixed her attention back on the fight, and Bulma reluctantly followed suit, her struggling ceased.  
  
"See you in hell," Yamcha announced overdramatically. Then, at last, he fired the gun.  
  
Vejita smoothly dodged the shot at the last possible moment, smirking at Yamcha. "You seem to have missed. Care to try again?"  
  
Yamcha growled angrily and fired shot after shot at the Saiyan King, but all were seamlessly evaded just in the nick of time. When the gun was empty, he violently tossed it at the other man, at a complete loss for words. Bulma, Lady Briefs, Maylene, and Byron seemed to be speechless as well. Only Magdalene and Chichi watched impassively, having long since witnessed the infamous fighting skill of the Saiyan race.  
  
"You'll see me in hell, hm?" Vejita repeated. "It seems like even your ki-invading gun couldn't bail your ass out."  
  
Yamcha swallowed hard, knowing that he now stood completely defenseless. He had known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he was severely outmatched for this fight, but his pride had long since been keeping him from fully realizing that fact. Until now, when he stood utterly helpless at the famously meager mercy of the Saiyan King. To put it simply, he felt as if he were about to piss himself.  
  
"It seems to me like you've been defeated," the other man continued, all of the amusement gone from his voice. When Yamcha remained silent, he slowly advanced on him, until they were only inches from each other. "This would be your cue to beg for your life." They stood nose to nose, but Vejita's commanding presence made it seem like he was looking down at Yamcha -- a technique that he had mastered.  
  
"Never," Yamcha squeaked out with his last bit of bravery. "I wouldn't lower myself that far, even if you had a gun to my fucking head!"  
  
A trace of a smile came over Vejita's face. "I don't have a gun. I have something much better." A glowing bit of ki emerged from his hand.   
  
"Show some honor for once in your life," Yamcha hissed, trying to use a challenge to lessen the pain that was inevitably coming to him. "Kill me quickly and cleanly. That is, if you're even capable of that."  
  
The women up by the altar were frozen in anticipation. Bulma's face had changed to the color of freshly-fallen snow, while Magdalene, Maylene, and Chichi were all slightly tinged green, wondering just what form of torture Vejita would employ this time around. Alone on her pew, guarded by Turles and Valyn, Lady Briefs put her hand over the spot where her dagger was concealed.  
  
"I am the King of the Saiyan Empire! I have more honor than all the members of your race combined," Vejita boasted predictably. A glimmer of hope appeared on Yamcha's visage. "Unfortunately for you, however, none of my elites are present, which means that no one will ever know how I disposed of you."  
  
The ki in Vejita's hand grew, and Yamcha took a frightened step back.  
  
"I'm really going to enjoy this," the Saiyan King said under his breath.  
  
Yamcha whirled and retreated in panic, so Vejita followed him.  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
******   
  
(A/N): I don't think that there is an adequate enough explanation for the extremely late update, so I'm not even going to bother.  
  
*If your reviewer name is NOT 'In 24 days the dead will rise again', then please skip past this part, because its aimed at them and ONLY at them: Fuck you. If you don't like the way I write, then save yourself the time and DON'T READ MY FICS. Otherwise, stop bitching and suck it up already! I'm not going to change, no matter how many times you flame me (though I really don't care if you try again, considering that my review count goes up every time you do). Since you were too much of a fucking coward to even leave your e-mail address, I'm going to leave it at this and never think about you again. But if you have some serious issues with me, then why don't you and I chat sometime? I mean, honestly, did you think that you were going to hurt my feelings or something? I'm not like some of the other writers out here, who cry at the littlest bit of critism. If you've got anger, then I have ten times as much. Try me.  
  
For everyone else, I'm sorry if you read that unnecessarily! I meant no offense to anyone else but that one flamer. Hopefully, the next update will be a lot sooner in coming. Special thanks to Debido, who supplied me with many of the ideas that shaped this chapter! Go read his fics, or else I just might have to come after you, too! Thanks much, and please remember to REVIEW!  
  
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	39. Part Five: 39

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________________________~*Part Five*~: Vengeance  
  
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Magdalene watched as Yamcha turned on his heel and began running away from Vejita, who followed with an amused look on his tanned face. As she watched him hunt down his weaker, defenseless prey, she marveled at how much he looked like his father when he was angry. The murderous gleam in his black eyes could have easily rivaled that of his father, if the facial features were a bit rougher and the smirk twisting those features were a little more viscious. She could only hope that he would stray away from this kind of behavior and not make too much a spectacle out of Yamcha's death. She almost couldn't bring herself to watch.  
  
Yamcha had reached the doors of the church, where Turles and Valyn had quickly materialized as soon as he began running towards them. Trapped, he turned back to Vejita in dismay.  
  
"You've stripped me of all my weapons!" he exclaimed, waving his arms wildly. "This is not a fair fight!"  
  
"Bitch about it later, to someone who cares," Vejita advised him matter-of-factly. "Oh, wait... you're about to die, and no one cares! Silly me, I must have forgotten!"  
  
Meanwhile, Magdalene and her companions were so absorbed in the battle that they hardly noticed Lady Briefs stand silently and edge closer to the altar, where they were located. Now that Turles and Valyn were distracted, she had her chance. The old woman's thin white hand slipped beneath the folds of her skirt, closing around the hilt of the dagger she carried. With a half-smile, she leaned against the altar, now within ten feet of Bulma and Magdalene, and watched the fight.  
  
"You're a sick bastard!" Yamcha hissed. "You're going to fucking rot in hell for what you're doing!"  
  
"Undoubtedly," Vejita confirmed, undeterred. "But you'll be arriving there much sooner than me."  
  
Almost escaping human eyesight, Vejita reached out and shoved Yamcha back on his ass, where he sat, stunned and terrorized. The Saiyan was now looming over him, a luxury that he rarely got to enjoy anywhere besides the battlefield. Turles and Valyn watched their ruler warily from their position at the doors, awaiting any order that he might give.  
  
Bulma wrapped her arms around Magdalene's waist and clung there, watching Vejita and Yamcha reluctantly. Her fingers were shaking, Magdalene noticed, and when she looked down at her, she could spot tears still streaming down her cheeks. Off-handedly, the Saiyan Queen wished that she could read minds so she could find out just what it was that was scaring the hell out of the small woman. So far, the fight was going smoothly, and with absolutely minimal injuries to Vejita. Or Yamcha thus far, for that matter. She also wondered just how Bulma's skinny little body was producing so much liquid. She wrote it off to the fact that the girl was human.  
  
Vejita smirked and planted a gold-tipped boot onto Yamcha's soft stomach, slowly putting more and more of his weight -- and then some extra strength -- into the effort, which earned him some painful groans from Yamcha. "I'm going to really enjoy killing you," he muttered under his breath, his voice husky with the pleasure that this particular killing was bringing him. "Especially with everybody watching. Think about me stringing up your remains in the town square when this is all over, for all of your 'loyal' subjects to see... I can smell the entrails rotting in the hot summer sun now..." Then, just for Yamcha to hear, he muttered, "And then think about me later, fucking your wife in your own bedchambers..."  
  
The women felt their stomachs turn in disgust at Vejita's former comment, and Byron, from his position at the center of the aisle close to the altar, shook his head. For the life of him, he still could not see Bulma's attraction to this cruel man. As a matter of fact, the jealously was brewing within him like a dormant volcano, on the edge of bursting. He clenched his fists at his sides.  
  
"Please..." Yamcha managed, his hands uselessly gripping Vejita's booted ankle. "For the love of Kami..."  
  
  
  
"He has no such feelings for you," Vejita responded. "Kami has not been known to save rapists, or dishonorable little pieces of shit who find satisfaction in beating their mates!" Then, apparently sick of Yamcha's babble, he let go of his self-control and inserted his foot the rest of the way through Yamcha's stomach. Red, thick liquid oozed out of the wound, and as Vejita slowly drew his boot out, prolonging the pain, some entrails peeked through the hole. Yamcha wailed in dying agony, humiliating tears streaming down his cheeks.  
  
"In your case, I don't mind getting my new boots dirty," Vejita commented. Then he bent over and seized one of Yamcha's feet. Much to everyone's disgust, he began to drag the body down the aisle towards the altar and the women, leaving a gross red and brown trail of blood and Yamcha's innards behind him. He didn't seem to notice that, nor hear the shrill screams of his victim.   
  
Magdalene braced herself, ready to move both herself and the sobbing Bulma away. "Kami-dammit! He'd better not be dragging that disgusting thing any closer!"  
  
Vejita, thankfully, stopped halfway down the aisle. Then he lifted Yamcha's body and slammed it against the side of a nearby pew. A loud, sickening crack was heard as the human's back was broken. Yamcha, at this point, was only capable of quieter, guttural sounds of pain as his consciousness -- and life -- was failing him. Vejita chuckled to himself sadistically.  
  
  
  
"Oh Kami," Bulma muttered. She had been longing for the death of her abusive husband for years -- almost her whole life, actually -- but to witness such a brutal murder was not easy on her, no matter whose murder it was. The entire scene made her stomach (which had only recently been purged of its tiny human newcomer, unknowingly to her) do flip-flops within her. "I'm going to be sick..."  
  
In the aisle, Vejita was in the process of methodically, almost casually, breaking each of the bones in Yamcha's legs with a bit of pressure from his foot, as if Yamcha was not worthy of even a full effort. The cracks echoed off the high ceilings of the church.  
  
Bulma delicate stomach could handle it no longer -- she turned away from Magdalene and vomited what little materials were left in her. Magdalene rubbed her back absently, her attention fully on the display before them. When Bulma had emptied her stomach of its contents, she coughed up a bile that burned her throat. Spent, she viewed the mess she had made with no emotion at all.  
  
Turles and Valyn came away from their posts at the church doors and down the aisle to where Vejita was finishing up the destruction of Yamcha's legs. They gave each other worried looks, and Valyn was the one to speak up quietly.  
  
"Perhaps you should just kill him and get it over with now," he suggested. His eyes went to where Bulma had been vomiting. "You're harming Queen Bulma more than you're helping her at this point."  
  
Vejita cast him a sideways glare. "Did I ask you what you thought, Valyn?"  
  
The man shook his head. "No -- "  
  
"Then that's all there is to say," the king interuppted. Ignoring them, he went back to Yamcha and reached down to check his pulse. "The bastard's still alive -- didn't think he had it in him." When Turles and Valyn did not move, he stopped checking Yamcha and turned to them with an incredulous frown. "What the hell are you hovering for, soldiers?!"  
  
"Vejita-sama," Turles began reluctantly. "I understand your anger at this fool, but don't you think that you should just kill him and see to Bulma now? You've accomplished what you wanted -- you've won her. She would be better off with a doctor, not here watching you mutilate her husband." He quickly added, "With all due respect."  
  
Vejita stared down at Yamcha's pale countenance for a moment, then glared back up at his men. "Who the fuck do you think you're giving orders to -- Kakkarott?! I refuse to give the son-of-a-bitch a mercy killing, and that's the way its going to be! If you two don't have the stomachs for it, then I suggest that you get to cleaning up the city with Bardock."  
  
The two men stepped back again.  
  
Vejita was now fueled with further anger. Gritting his teeth, he picked up Yamcha's barely conscious body by the neck and squeezed slowly, increasing the pressure as time passed. Yamcha's neck bruised, then began to tear, then with a sickening thud his head disconnected from his neck and fell onto the floor. Grotesquely, it rolled down the church aisle to rest at the foot of the altar. Vejita cast the lifeless body aside, his eyes narrowed.  
  
Bulma and Magdalene jumped back with a yelp when the head rolled up the front of the altar. If Bulma had had anything left in her stomach, she would have retched again. Chichi gave a little scream and pressed herself as close to the windows as possible, and Maylene stood her ground, staring stonily down at the expression frozen on Yamcha's face -- an expression of unbelievable pain.  
  
"Its a damned shame," she commented suddenly, her red lips pursed. The others looked up in surprise. "After all that, Vejita didn't even castrate him."  
  
"He slowly popped his head right off his body, like a fucking dandelion!" Chichi growled from near the windows, her face white as a sheet. "What more torture could you ask for?"  
  
"It wasn't nearly enough," Vejita grumbled, slowly approaching them. His rage made him seem like a whole different man. "If those fools hadn't shit all over my concentration, I would still be over there enjoying myself, I assure you."  
  
"You're a very sick man," Lady Briefs chipped in, appearing unafraid of the entire situation.   
  
"It's going to get worse," Vejita shot back at her. "In a few minutes, I'm going to order my men to put his sorry remains on display in front of the palace -- permanently -- so that you and the rest of your weak race can have the pleasure of watching him rot for the next hundred years." He smirked, his thoughts on that very task. "And I believe I'll have them position him so he'll be doing his favorite activity for eternity -- jacking off."  
  
Magdalene frowned. "That was unnecessarily gruesome, Vejita."  
  
He ignored her and moved straight to Bulma, who was sitting beside her, eyes wide and moving frantically from Vejita to Yamcha's severed head. Before he acknowledged her, he looked to Lady Briefs again and glared. "Give me your weapon, before I decide to take it myself."  
  
Lady Briefs frowned, looking like she was going to deny his accusation of a weapon. "What does it matter?" she questioned haughtily. "What could a weak human woman do with a small knife, anyway?"  
  
"I don't want to wait to find out," Vejita responded. "Give it to me, or I'll give you a much more painful death than was already coming to you."  
  
Shakily, and with a death glare in the Saiyan's direction, Lady Briefs withdrew her knife and tossed it over to where Bulma was sitting. Bulma barely even looked at the dagger as it slid next to her.  
  
When Vejita reached her, he placed a hand on her forehead, judging how healthy she was. Bulma leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed in something resembling contentment, or at least as close to the emotion as she could get. She didn't even notice that Vejita's touched was leaving tiny traces of Yamcha's blood on her white skin.   
  
Slowly, Vejita's hand trailed down to her bandaged arms. He took her wrists in each hand and gently tore away the makeshift bandages, revealing the ugly cuts beneath. His black eyes lifted to lock onto hers, which had opened in shock when he took away the cloth.  
  
"Why did you do this?" he questioned under his breath. He could not help but sound a bit accusing. "I was on my way to you the entire time -- you should have known that."  
  
Bulma began to tremble, and her lips struggled to form words. Her voice came out small and quivering. "Sometimes I could not be sure exactly what I knew... I've not been myself ever since I returned here. I've not been myself in a long time."  
  
Vejita assessed the damage to her arms, and decided that she would survive if she didn't see a doctor for a little while. He glanced up at Magdalene warningly, and she reluctantly moved away from Bulma and back with Chichi and Maylene. "We're leaving this giant ball of shit tomorrow morning, and you'll never have to think of this again." He shot a look over at the women to make sure that they hadn't made out his uncharacteristically caring words. "Even after death, Yamcha will be humiliated and laughed at daily, for as long as his remains hold up."  
  
A half-smile touched Bulma's lips at his odd form of comfort. "I know," she assured him. "But how can I ever forget all of this? This was my life, up until I went to your planet." Her eyes darkened to the color of a stormy sky. "I'll never forget. I'll never be able to." She was drifting away from them again.  
  
Vejita's grip on her tightened as he began to fear that she would sink back into herself again. He had to keep her here with him. "On Vejitasei, you'll be so distracted that you won't have to look back on those damned memories again, I swear it."  
  
"You'll try your hardest, I'm sure," Bulma said, the edges of her mouth twitching at his sexual innuendo. "But you'll never be able to chase it away."  
  
"This is what you wanted, is it not?" Vejita demanded. How was he supposed to please her after all that he had already done? Didn't Yamcha's head rolling on the floor satisfy her? "You've gotten everything that you've ever hoped for, woman! What else is there that someone can do?"  
  
Bulma choked on a sob, the thoughts of the human population being exterminated outside the church windows, and of her own past life of torture surfacing in her mind like nightmares that wouldn't go away. "You can help me forget all of that... Please help me..." With fresh tears, she allowed herself to be taken into Vejita's strong embrace. When she was there, she could almost shove the memories aside. She almost felt safe. This was as happy as she could ever be -- she might always have the bad thoughts, but they could be temporarily shoved aside.  
  
Byron watched the quiet, yet unmistakeably tender exchange from the aisleway, not far from where Yamcha's grimacing head had rolled. Jealousy and anger brewed in his stomach until he thought he was going to be sick. It wasn't right, this couple -- Bulma was the human queen, so she should consort with a human suitor. He had been in Bulma's life for years before she had even heard of this Saiyan warlord, so why should he be cast into the background now that they had been reunited again? With a low growl, his hand went to the long dagger at his side.  
  
Bulma savored the feel of Vejita's warm embrace, almost fearful that she would never feel it again. The fact that she was free to be with whomever she chose was hard to believe. The flame that had existed between them had never gone out -- the connection and the feeling of security was still there, even stronger, it seemed. She smiled demurely, and shifted to rest her chin on his broad shoulder.   
  
  
  
When she opened her large eyes, however, she was met with a sight that made her blood suddenly run cold. The hooded man who had followed Vejita into the church was lunging at them, a long dagger drawn and ready. Apparently, Vejita was not bothering to follow his weak human ki as he nuzzled her neck.  
  
Gasping, she did the first thing that came to her mind -- she grabbed the dagger that had been cast close to her by her unknowing mother. Once the man got within a foot of Vejita, the Saiyan finally picked up on his presence and whirled to face him. In Bulma's shocked (and clearly forgetful) eyes, his movements weren't fast enough, so she instinctively threw herself at the man before Vejita could untangle himself from her and act.  
  
The dagger inserted itself cleanly and easily into the man's ribcage, earning her a deep groan of pain. They collapsed together onto the ground, his blood soaking into her already filthy white dress. Exhaustedly, she rolled off of him and curled herself into a ball as the full impact of what had happened washed over her. She had killed a man, or at least it was looking to be that way. She forced herself to sit back up and see who it was that she had saved Vejita from.  
  
"You sneaky little cocksucker!" Vejita was growling at the moaning figure. "What kind of ungrateful motherfuck are you? Did you honestly think that you could harm me? If the woman hadn't gotten you first, I would have dismembered you before you could even get your pathetic little weapon within two inches of me!" As if noticing Bulma sitting there just now, he put a possessive arm around her waist. Bulma was grateful, because as her head swam she felt that he was the only thing holding her up. Little did she know...  
  
"Who is he?" she asked. "Who is that?"  
  
Magdalene, Maylene, and Chichi had scrambled over, along with Turles and Valyn, as well as Lady Briefs, who looked to be above the whole situation.  
  
"Its nobody, dear," Magdalene tried to tell Bulma, knowing how the identity of the man would effect Bulma. "Turles -- take the body away so it won't further distress Bulma."  
  
"He'll do no such thing," Vejita snarled. "I'm not done with the prick -- he's not even dead yet."  
  
Magdalene gave a shout of protest as Vejita reached to lower the man's hood, but to no avail. The hood was lowered, and Byron's distressed face was revealed for them all to see. Bulma at first showed disbelief, then shock, and then she began to shake within the circle of Vejita's arms.  
  
"Byron?" she managed, breaking away from Vejita to lean over the dying man. "Oh Kami... what have I done to you?"   
  
Byron's eyes focused hazily on her face, and an unsteady arm snaked towards her. "Bulma... you've gotten even more beautiful as the years passed. I've missed you so much."  
  
"Oh Kami," Bulma breathed. "I'm so sorry..."  
  
Byron glanced over at Vejita for a brief second, then back to Bulma. "So am I. How could you...?"  
  
Bulma gave in to sobs, unable to speak. She couldn't believe it -- she had killed him. Byron, the love of her youth, was going to die by her hand. Her already traumatized mind felt the strain, and she saw her breaking point approaching quickly on the horizon. Her hand quaking violently, she reached out for the hilt of the dagger, which was still embedded in Byron.  
  
He waved her hand away weakly. "Don't... Do you remember the day that I was sent away...?" Byron was saying, desperately trying to find something to win her afffection with. "You came to the docks, and you looked so breathtaking--"  
  
Vejita, who hadn't even been paying attention to the conversation, just to Bulma's unsteady form, cut him off when he suddenly aimed a ki blast at the man's heart, putting him out of his misery. "Is that all anyone does here before they die?! Ramble on mindlessly?" He clearly had no idea what he had just done.  
  
Bulma gave a shriek, and then gave in to body-wracking sobs. She felt like the floor had been taken out from under her, and the world was spinning wildly around her. She had reached her absolute limit -- she could handle no more.  
  
"I can't believe you!" Maylene shouted to Vejita as he bent over Bulma's hunched form. "Do you have any idea what you just did?!" When Vejita just glared at her blankly, she elaborated. "Byron was Bulma's boyfriend a long time ago, before Yamcha sent him -- and all the rest of Bulma's friends -- away."  
  
Vejita's expression darkened. "All the more reason to kill him."  
  
Magdalene hurried to Bulma's side, shooting Vejita a black look. "What could have been the defining moment of Bulma's life has just been turned into the worst, with thanks to you! If you're going to make any more of those comments, I suggest you step away from this poor woman." While Vejita chewed on that, she put a hand on Bulma's shoulder. "Honey, you must snap out of it. You aren't to blame -- Byron would have gotten himself killed anyway, and believe me, his death by anyone else's hands would have been much more painful. He's at peace now."  
  
Bulma did not even acknowledge Magdalene at first. Then, she lifted her head and met the queen's eyes for a brief moment. "Why did this have to happen?" she asked between whimpers. "Why me?"  
  
Vejita rudely nudged his mother aside and took the small woman into his lap. He quickly motioned for Turles and Valyn to take the body away -- they hurried to do his bidding. "Woman, you have to ignore it. Magdalene was right -- if you hadn't put him out of his misery, someone else would have." He cast a quick, murderous glance over at the body, thinking that it most certainly would have been him, when Bulma was not present. But he didn't have to say that. "Your bastard husband is dead -- you should be relieved now, not on the floor bawling."  
  
"This is Kami's revenge on me," she assured him softly. "He's paying me back for not doing anything about Yamcha and his cruel policies for so long..."  
  
"That's bullshit and you know it," Vejita corrected her. "You didn't have a choice. Would it please you if we took you out of here -- to a doctor?" He gave a weak half-smile and attempted some humor. "Maybe you'd rather see a shrink instead?"  
  
"I want nothing..." Bulma said, a few matted curls falling across her face. "I don't want anything else... everything I want comes to me through violence and death..."  
  
"You won't have to fight for anything anymore," Vejita told her roughly. "You belong to the most powerful empire in the universe now. All you have to do is ask, and the entire third-class will run to do your bidding. No other person in the universe will ever hold that kind of power."  
  
She laughed ironically, humorlessly, then closed her eyes. "I killed him," she sighed. The musical undertone in her voice was gone, and that was the most disturbing thing of all.  
  
Magdalene watched as Bulma cried silently, eyes closed, within Vejita's grasp. Her son looked, for once in his life, completely helpless and even a little bit confused. She could understand where these feelings were coming from -- he had just killed her evil husband for her, liberated (as well as exterminated, for a great number of them) her people, and given her a chance for another life, and here she was, withdrawing back into herself. But Vejita, a rare man who had always been too hard to let any emotion in, could not possibly understand what Bulma was going through. Magdalene was just grateful that Bulma and Vejita seemed to have no idea that she had aborted Yamcha's child. She shuddered, thinking of what might have happened if the baby had been allowed to develop.  
  
"We're losing her!" Maylene exclaimed from beside her, breaking the Saiyan Queen's train of thought. "Not again!"  
  
Magdalene watched with dread as Bulma stopped responding to them. She could almost feel the girl's presence shrink from the room, as if it were fog hanging in the air. She did not rush to her, like Maylene and Chichi did, but instead stood a short distance away and watched with stony green eyes.  
  
Lady Briefs, almost forgotten after Byron's death, moved slowly beside her. The two women contrasted greatly -- Magdalene was tanned and brash, with almost complete disregard as to whether her actions were ladylike or not, while Lady Briefs was rail-thin, pale, and the epitome of a court noblewoman. Magdalene didn't lower herself by acknowledging Bulma's mother, and instead observed her out of the corner of her uplifted eyes.  
  
"Its a shame, really," Lady Briefs commented, acting completely detached from the whole situation. Her cold, unfeelings eyes were on Bulma and Vejita. "Though, I can't honestly say that I didn't see this coming. That girl's been through hell and back in her life, but she's never been properly grateful for the small breaks that she did receive. Why should she be excited about this one?"  
  
"I'd say that being grateful has nothing to do with it," Magdalene responded hotly. "If you were put into Bulma's place, you would most likely do the same thing. Have you no sympathy, no compassion, for your own daughter?"  
  
Lady Briefs actually appeared to consider the question, and her gaze fell ever so briefly to her feet. "I would never be in her situation, Saiyan. I've given her the best life that a woman could have -- if I were her, I would understand and accept that my fate is for the betterment of my people." Her red lips slowly curved into a mocking smile. "Though I have to say, your son certainly looks to be more... sexually appealing. When I first saw him, I began to understand where Bulma's thoughts were."  
  
Magdalene wanted to murder this bitter woman standing next to her with all of her being, but something was telling her not to -- at least not yet. "You seem to know what you're talking about, considering how limited your experience with sex undoubtedly is."  
  
Lady Briefs bristled at the mild stab, but said nothing.  
  
Across the floor, Maylene swallowed her fear of Vejita and moved close enough to hold one of Bulma's small, sad hands. She was slightly shamed at the streaks of tears that were on her own cheeks, but she was willing to shame herself for the sake of her beloved friend. All of the surrounding people's efforts and pain was seeming to be have been in vain, because Bulma looked worse off than she had been before. Her skin was deathly pale -- so pale that Maylene wondered whether she had been on the floor of the church bleeding for much longer than they had estimated.  
  
"You knew her from before?" Vejita's voice was low and gravelly -- most definitely not the kind of voice accustomed to quiet questions. Maylene flinched at the sound of it, then looked up and did her best to hold his gaze. "Did you not hear me, human?"  
  
"I heard you quite clearly," Maylene answered shortly. She caressed Bulma's cold hand, then continued in a more subdued tone. "We were the best of friends from childhood until Yamcha banished me from the palace -- probably about three years before they went to your planet." Much to her embarassment, she choked on a few sobs. "After that point, she had nobody -- he sent everyone, even her lesser friends, away. It was horrible, knowing that she was in the palace, alone, dealing with him in every second of her life."  
  
Vejita looked like he was about to reply, but suddenly his communicator began to beep. He practically ripped it from its place at his waist, then slammed the button down impatiently. "What do you want?" he barked into it.  
  
Chichi perked up nearby at the sound of Bardock's voice through the device. "We've finished, Vejita-sama. The armies are annihilated, and what humans are left around the area have been... detained."  
  
"Its about time," Vejita snapped back. "Make your way to the palace -- and bring a doctor."  
  
Bardock grunted his affirmative. "Kakkarott wants to know how his ma-- Chichi fares."  
  
Vejita brows furrowed. "Who?"  
  
It was all Chichi could do not to snatch the communicator from the man's hands. "I'm fine! I'm perfectly fine!" she stammered, her words tripping over each other. "Tell him that I'm well!"  
  
Vejita carelessly tossed the communicator in her direction and refocused his attention onto the still woman in his lap. The blood that he had on his hands, Yamcha's blood, had also gotten into the sections of hair which he had touched, making for a very gruesome appearance. Not that it diminished her beauty -- it actually enhanced his attraction for her, as sadistic as it might have sounded. He had never felt so helpless in his life.  
  
"Your plans didn't go through quite as well as you thought they would, hm?" Lady Briefs queried mockingly.  
  
Vejita's eyes sought her out, as if he were noticing her for the first time. "You're the bitch mother."  
  
"I care not what you think of me," she said. "I just want to work out a compromise."  
  
Vejita glowered at her.  
  
"In exchange for placating my people's anger towards your race, you would install me as ruler of Earth," she continued, her voice as smooth as honey. "You'll find me to be quite a capable ruler. The people already know who I am -- I've actually been a driving force behind both Yamcha and his father's reigns. I can turn some of our trade policies to your advantage -- a sort of alliance, if you will."  
  
Vejita's incredulous look demonstrated his opinion of her. "How fucking stupid do you think I am?" he snarled. "The only thing that you'll be ruling for the rest of your lifetime will be a dungeon cell -- if you're lucky enough to even get one. I've been giving serious thought to just putting you on display like that other piece of shit that I murdered today." At her dumbstruck look, he rolled his dark eyes. "If you thought that you would get anything else, then you were fucking dreaming."  
  
"I'll watch her," Magdalene volunteered, meeting the human woman's angry gaze with a sarcastic smile. "I'm certain that I can handle her."  
  
"Whatever." Vejita gave Lady Briefs no more thought. His sense picked up on a few new intruders into the palace. "Bardock, Kakkarott, and Radditz are in the palace. Turles and Valyn have joined up with them."  
  
Right on cue, the men came through the doors and down the aisle towards them. They sidestepped Yamcha's body, and then his severed head, with its frozen expression of agony, with a hint of distaste, but showed no other outside reaction. They went on one knee before their king, then stood. Kakkarott looked like a child with ADD, practically squirming as he shot sideways glances in Chichi's direction.  
  
"What's happened to her?" Bardock asked, motioning towards Bulma's form. "She looks like--"  
  
  
  
"Like she's attempted suicide, bled all over the fucking floor, witnessed me slaughter her husband, and then murdered her first boyfriend?" Vejita interjected, his voice full of dark humor. "Well, that would be because she has. All of the above, as a matter of fact." He gently shook her, but the only reaction he got was the slight fluttering of eyelashes. "If any of you idiots have suggestions, this would be about the only instance in my lifetime in which I would be interested in hearing them."  
  
"Maybe she's hungry," Kakkarott suggested innocently. "Or thirsty -- she doesn't look very healthy."  
  
Everyone glanced at Kakkarott incredulously, except for Chichi, who thoughtfully stepped off of the church's raised dias and towards one of the small bowls of holy water. Carefully, she lifted the golden bowl up and carried it towards Bulma and Vejita. "Its still chilled," she commented. "Pour some of this on her face -- maybe that will wake her up."  
  
  
  
Vejita watched her every move as she knelt next to Bulma and slowly poured some of the cold liquid onto the pale face, and then -- much to everyone's amazement, save Kakkarott -- Bulma's eyes suddenly opened, an alert and shocking shade of blue.  
  
  
  
After the initial shock wore off, Bulma shuddered and situated herself closer to Vejita's warm body, as if attempting to absorb some it herself. "I want to get out of this place," she said monotonously. "Now."  
  
In spite of himself, Vejita cracked a small smile. She wasn't herself, but she was at least conscious and speaking. "As you wish."  
  
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Several hours later, Maylene stood, along with the few people who had begun to crawl out of their hiding places in the city, in the town square. Despite her renewed status and her acquaintance with the Saiyan royals, she stood among the common people, who jostled her around to get a better view of the spectacle that Vejita and his men were purposely causing.  
  
He and his men had torn down the imposing statue of Yamcha's father that had stood in the square for decades rather unceremoniously; it now laid in pieces around the platform it had once stood on, forgotten already. In its place, Vejita and his men had erected a display of their own -- a rather morbid display that made Maylene's skin crawl, but at the same time uplifted her downtrodden spirits.  
  
Yamcha's beaten body was strung up in a rather offensive sexual position, with his hands placed accordingly, for all to see. His head, which had been severed from his body, was now set lopsidedly atop his neck, grimacing gruesomely at them all.   
  
Vejita and his counterparts were standing back, admiring their handiwork like it was a priceless piece of art. Which they probably thought it was, from what she understood of their culture so far. Maylene could only hope that Bulma never ventured into this town square ever again, at least not until she had recovered fully. Which was looking pretty dim about now.  
  
Vejita had taken her to his ship, which had been moved closer to the palace. She had been put into the care of some of Vejitasei's finest doctors, who were probably helping her at this moment, then she was due to float in the regen tank. Maylene couldn't be sure, because she had declined to enter the Saiyan's ship after Magdalene and Chichi. She shared their sense of victory over a common enemy, but she had declined to join them in relaxing on the enormous battleship. She wanted to stand with her own people for these last few moments, just to savor the feeling of somewhat normalcy before the Saiyans turned their planet upside-down. She hoped to get a grip on what she was going to do with herself now.  
  
For the moment, she was content to watch from afar while their king and his warriors disrespected Yamcha's remains. A smile tugged at her lips, but it faded quickly. She supposed that she should have been happy that her people were liberated from Yamcha and his line, but what now? Mostly likely Earth would be consumed by the Saiyan Empire. It would become a playground for vacationing Saiyans, or perhaps an industrial center to spare them the space on their own planet. She didn't know what she had expected exactly. All she knew was that things would never be the same.  
  
And Byron was dead. She hadn't particularly loved the man -- he had even annoyed her at times. It was just that he had been an important part of she and Bulma's past together. The three of them had snuck away to quite a few parties in their time, and they shared common viewpoints on events that had happened in their past. And besides that, Maylene mused, everyone needed a friend to laugh at.  
  
She could not even allow herself to think of his horrible death by Bulma's unknowing hands.  
  
A hush suddenly went over some of the people behind her, and Maylene whipped around to see what it was that had frightened the people. It turned out to be Kakkarott and another tall, burly Saiyan walking directly towards her. The people parted like the Red Sea before them, but Maylene stood her ground. She even lifted her chin defiantly when they stopped before her. The resemblence between Kakkarott and the other man was striking; however, the other man's features were more mature.  
  
"Yes? What do you two want?" she asked.   
  
Kakkarott flashed her his careless smile. "Uh, Queen Magdalene asked us to come and find you. She wants your presence immediately. She said that--"  
  
The other man cut in with a mischevious half-smile that struck a familiar chord in Maylene -- he was flirting with her, or at least attempting to. "Our dear queen ordered us to come save you from these pressing human crowds. She believes that you are far above doing such things -- and I have to agree with her. A pretty little thing like you shouldn't be out here, getting jostled by these simpletons."  
  
Kakkarott stared blankly at his comrade, then burst out laughing. "I think that's the smartest-sounding thing I've ever heard you say, Radditz!" he exclaimed. "You almost sounded like you're trying to fl--"  
  
"Why don't you shut your trap?!" the other man, Radditz, interjected, adding in a painful-sounding slap on Kakkarott's back. While the other man bent over, gasping for the breath that had been knocked out of him, Radditz turned back to Maylene with another ravishing smile. "So... do you want to tag along? I, personally, would love to bask in your company."  
  
Maylene smothered a smile of her own, not wanting to come across as too interested. "I'm dreadfully sorry, but I'm going to have politely decline. I didn't care for your ship." Her face became more serious. "In other words -- hell no." She turned on her heel and did her best to saunter away from the two men. She was a little rusty from not using her 'feminine wiles', as the confessor used to call them, in quite some time.  
  
As she had expected, the man came trotting after her. She stopped from him, much to her own surprise. "Did you not understand me?" she asked. Maybe her skills weren't as rusty as she had thought.  
  
"I understood you fine," Radditz retorted, less patiently. "I just wanted to tell you that they aren't on the ship right now, at least, Magdalene isn't. Some of the soldiers set up a little place to sit, near the ship. She's there."  
  
Maylene considered his words for a minute, her mind racing, then opened her mouth to speak. "Alright then, soldier -- lead the way."  
  
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Rhapsody~*  
  
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +  
  
+ AOL Instant Messanger: Hawaiian Babay +  
  
******   
  
(A/N): Whew, that was a long chapter! And, unfortunately, it will be one of the last ones. I'm only expecting to write two or three more, and then an epilogue. Its coming to a close!!! And its so depressing... I'm gonna miss all of you guys and your great compliments! I'll thank some of you regular, overachieving reviewers in my last chapter, I promise! Ummmm... another update in... a few weeks I guess? I can't be sure, because I'm going on vacation for my Sprink Break, which is next week. We'll see. For now, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please remember to leave me a REVIEW! ^_^  
  
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	40. Part Five: 40

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
...................................................................................Rhapsody  
  
Part Five: Vengeance  
  
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Maylene followed Radditz and Kakkarott somewhat reluctantly towards the Saiyan ship. She was silently berating herself the entire way, for both going against her better judgement and for feeling something approaching lust for one of the violent warriors who had taken over her planet. Once again, her conflicting feelings towards the Saiyans surfaced. She hastily beat them back, accepting that she would always have a sort of love-hate relationship with that issue. For now, she concentrated on the situation at hand -- Magdalene sent these men to find her, and the Saiyan Queen was not one to do things without a good reason. Maylene could only begin to wonder as to what she was needed for.  
  
"Its not much farther," Radditz assured her over his broad shoulder. "Only a few minutes walk from here, I'd say."  
  
His way of speaking to her like some helpless damsel irritated Maylene beyond belief. She bit back a string of colorful curses -- for now. "The fact that I am a human does not mean that I can be killed by a mere love tap, obviously, or else Bulma would be dead right now, nor does it mean that I have the endurance of an old crone," she retorted. "So don't speak to me like I'm going to fall over in an exhausted swoon at any given moment, got it?"  
  
Radditz looked slightly taken aback, but said nothing. It was just as well, because Maylene would not have liked to get on the handsome man's bad side so quickly. Generally, she liked to get to know her enemies a little bit better. She figured that she'd give him a few hours before she decided whether to like him or not.  
  
"So," Kakkarott said, always the cheerful and polite one. "How long have you known our Bulma?"  
  
'Our Bulma'. Maylene resisted the urge to laugh at this naive, yet strangely observant man. "Well, I've known 'your Bulma' since we were about two feet high. We grew up together in the court, and I suppose you could say that we were best friends. But a few years before she and Yamcha went to your planet, I was banished from the palace, so this was the first time I've actually spoken to her in a while."  
  
"It must be great for Bulma to have her best friend back," Kakkarott said. "I know that I'm feeling better now that me and Chichi are back together, and we've only been apart for a little while!"  
  
So this was the man that Chichi had been so anxious to see, Maylene realized. Suddenly, she warmed up to the guy. "I don't think that she's even absorbed it yet," she responded solemnly. "In the condition she's been in, you can never tell."  
  
"After she gets out of the regen tank and gets to talk to Prince Vejita again, she'll begin to come around," Radditz predicted. "If she doesn't, then knowing him, Vejita will force her to. He's used to getting what he wants." He swept a look over Maylene that made her think that he was attempting to tell her that he was, too. The man's not-so-subtle attempts to flirt with her were becoming amusing.  
  
Once again, she found herself stifling giggles. The Saiyans were a peculiar race -- they were the toughest of soldiers, yet if you looked hard enough, they possessed their share of personality as well. Offhandedly, Maylene wondered just how Bulma had managed to find that little trait in Vejita, who so far had struck her as the most violent and unmerciful man she had ever known.   
  
"That kind of thing can't be forced," she observed. "Not even by your prince."  
  
Kakkarott shrugged. "I don't know about that. I was there to watch Bulma and Vejita get to like each other, and I think that if Vejita is there for her, she'll come around eventually. They're good for each other."  
  
"How could she not be good for him?" Radditz muttered, thinking that Maylene could not hear him. "Vejita's the cockiest son of a bitch I ever knew -- he wouldn't be satisfied with anyone other than the prettiest girl in the universe. Can you imagine what those two are like in bed?"  
  
"I can't imagine that someone like you could," Maylene quipped with a sarcastic smile.   
  
Radditz stopped in his tracks and looked at her incredulously. "Did you know that humans could hear that well?" he asked Kakkarott. The other man just smiled awkwardly. "You'd better watch yourself. I just might have to discipline you."  
  
"Just try it, monkey boy," Maylene challenged. She guessed that she hadn't enjoyed a verbal spar this much in years.   
  
"For your sake, I'm going to ignore that comment," Radditz replied, continuing to lead them to Magdalene. "Here we are."  
  
The enormous and, in Maylene's opinion, overdone ship loomed over them like a mountain. Underneath the large vehicle an almost comical pink umbrella and tea setting had been arranged. The commanding Saiyan Queen sat beneath the umbrella, sipping on a small cup of a steaming amber liquid. Her green eyes were dancing with amusement at Kami knew what. Probably the exchange between Radditz and herself, Maylene guessed. She remained sitting as they approached, watching them from behind narrowed eyes.  
  
"I'm surprised that they found you," she said, her accented voice putting Maylene at ease almost immediately. "You're not the kind of girl that I would expect could be found when its not a time of your choosing."  
  
"You're correct in that assumption," Maylene said, tossing a quick glance in Radditz's direction. He was trying to look respectful in front of his queen and study her out of the corner of his eyes at the same time. "I was distracted when they found me is all."  
  
"How could you not be?" Magdalene said, setting down her cup in disgust. "The spectacle that my son has so charmingly created would be enough to distract just about anyone. Not that I blame him - the bastard had it coming." She looked away from Maylene and at Radditz and Kakkarott. "Why don't you two go and find Vejita? Tell him that Bulma will be recovering in the regeneration tank right now - he should be there to check on her sometime soon." When they hesitated, she lifted her chin and seemed to grow a few inches. "Now."  
  
Maylene watched as they scurried off to do Magdalene's bidding, then turned back to the older woman. She suddenly had a better respect for a race that allowed a woman to be their ruler, something that would never have been tolerated among humans.  
  
"Sit down, please," Magdalene suggested politely, gesturing to the seat across from her.   
  
The human woman did so, and picked up the cup that was sitting there for her. The warm liquid turned out to be something like tea - the Saiyan version, because she detected the slight traces of an unusual alcohol underneath the herbal flavoring of the drink. "This is good," she commented to fill the silence. "What is it?"  
  
"I knew that you would like it," was the reply. "As for what's in it - I'll never give the recipe away. Its a family secret. Everyone else thinks that I drink plain tea, as is expected of a queen." She shook her head. "It seems that ever since Vejita took a liking to drinking, everything on the menu contains alcohol, even the items that he doesn't consume himself."  
  
Maylene liked to hear a little more about the man whom her best friend had suddenly fallen in love with, but she was not one to dance around a subject. "I don't think that you called me here to talk about the drinking habits of the House of Vejitasei."  
  
"No, I didn't," Magdalene admitted, setting her drink down. "I called you here because I wanted to discuss your future."  
  
Maylene raised a brow. "My future?" she repeated. "I don't understand."  
  
"I'll elaborate." Magdalene disregarded court protocol and put her elbows on the table so that she could rest her chin on her hand. "Obviously, there are going to be some changes to this planet now that Yamcha's strung up on a pole, jacking off for all Earth to see. Until a proper government can be set up, Earth will be under the command of the Saiyan Empire. And that may never change."  
  
"You mean that you might stay in command here?"  
  
Magdalene nodded. "Earth would become like a Saiyan colony. Though, seeing as how our future queen was born here, somewhat... gentler policies of ruling will be adopted. Unless, of course, Bulma wishes otherwise. But somehow I can't see her doing that."  
  
"It doesn't seem to me that she would have a choice in the matter," Maylene remarked, against her better judgement. "Your son doesn't seem like the type of person to compromise."  
  
"He isn't," Magdalene consented. "But if Bulma strongly wants something, I think that he would make an exception." She took a sip of her drink. "But we aren't here to discuss that, either. We're here to talk about you -- what you will do when we leave."  
  
"I'll most likely return to the court and reassert myself, now that Yamcha is dead and my title restored," Maylene said. "I can't say that that's exactly what I would choose for myself, but its not as if I have any other choices. I can be content knowing that Bulma has found somewhere where she belongs."  
  
"You're a much smarter woman than that," Magdalene said, seeming a bit annoyed. "Don't cut yourself short in all this. You deserve much more than that fate after all that you've done for Bulma, so I'm giving you an option. You can either remain here, as one of the head representatives for your people to our government, or you can come with us, and start over in the Saiyan court. I can make you one of the leading women of our society, if that's what you wish. No one will question my authority, or Bulma's."  
  
Maylene could hardly believe what she was hearing. Both choices appealed to her - if she stayed on Earth, then she could help reshape her people and kingdom; if she went to Vejitasei, she could start all over again, in a culture that would be willing to accept her, a woman, as an equal. She could be with Bulma without the suspicious gaze of Yamcha or Lady Briefs following her. She would never have to think of her trials on Earth again. Her eyes mischeviously wandered over in the direction that Radditz and Kakkarott had gone. Perhaps there was some entertainment to be found there for her, as well. Of course, there would be the added difficulty of any racial discrimination that might occur, since humans were so weak compared to the Saiyans, but she wasn't particularly hung up on power levels, anyway. Suddenly, the first option began to pale in comparison.  
  
"This planet can burn and fester in its own ruins for all that I care," Maylene finally said, casting a disgusted look at the dirty city behind them. "Besides, Bulma is not going to be rid of me that easily."  
  
Magdalene's smile was genuine, as was the twinkle in her emerald eyes. "Then welcome aboard, Lady Maylene. Will you be requiring a suite in the palace?"  
  
"Of course." Maylene played along with her own chesire grin. "Did you think I would accept anything less?"  
  
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After receiving Magdalene's message from Radditz, Vejita had hastily (but not too obviously) finished the tasks at hand and made his way to the ship.  
  
For his own sake, he was glad that Bulma was still in the regen tank, unable to hear or talk to him. It saved him the trouble of searching for something to say to her - and he didn't give in to awkwardness often. Before he had learned how long she would be in the tank, visions of himself making a mess of the already horrible situation had run rampant through his head. He saw himself bragging about his killing of Yamcha (which he truly wanted to do), only to have Bulma vomit all over his new gold-tipped boots. He also envisioned Bulma collapsing in tears every time he started to congratulate her on Byron's clean killing (something else he itched to do). Every way he planned the conversation, disaster struck. He had finally come to the conclusion that he would leave the talking to Bulma, if she was in the condition for conversation.  
  
The ship loomed before him. He had no choice but to enter now. The med wing was the first place that you hit upon entering the ship, so he did not have a long walk. Doctors in long white coats lingered around the hallways, consulting each other in hushed voices and marking clipboards. Vejita's nerves created images of Bulma's recovery going wrong, and he could almost see himself standing solemnly over her grave, fighting back the emotion that threatened to show on his face. His muscles tensed, and he estimated that this was the most worrying he had done in a long while. More like his whole life.  
  
When he reached her regen tank, however, all of his uncharacteristic worrying came to an end. Bulma floated in the transluscent liquid peacefully, her long lashes just brushing the tops of her high cheekbones. She had been changed into another dress, something approaching a white hospital gown, and Vejita made a mental note to find the person who had touched her and offer them a few severe injuries.  
  
After an annoyed glance from the Saiyan warrior, the room cleared, and Vejita was alone with Bulma. Even though the doctors had said that she was unconscious and couldn't hear him, and even though he knew that he must have looked like a damned fool, he found himself relating to her some recent events through the glass.  
  
"Look what you've gone and done to yourself," he scolded, eyeing the healing cuts on her arms with marked displeasure. "I hope that you're satisfied - you bought a few extra hours in the tank for those." He examined them a little closer, his warm breath fogging up the glass between them. "Though I must say, you appear to know what you're doing with a knife. You had perfect cut placement, for optimum blood loss..."  
  
He then remembered the distress he had felt coming from her when she had done it, and his own panicky reaction upon hearing it from his mother's mouth, and shut his mouth about issue. He did not offer any apologies, though. He might have been slightly crazy talking to someone who couldn't hear him, but he wasn't about to make things worse by apologizing to her. Even he had his limits.  
  
"Your bastard husband caused many problems for me," he continued. "In the process of going after you, I alienated most of my men, overthrew Magdalene, and killed too many of your weakling friends to count." Vejita smirked as a vain attempt to make up for the new, slightly uncomfortable thoughts in his head. "Though, thinking back on it, I wouldn't have done a damn thing differently, not for anything one could have offered me." He then adopted a thoughtful look. "Except... I believe I would have killed some more Earthlings. But no matter."  
  
His sinister chuckle echoed off of the tiled walls and floors of the room. Bulma's hair floated around her head like a blue halo, but she otherwise showed no recognition of his talking.  
  
"Its a good thing you can't hear me," Vejita muttered. "Perhaps we should do this one-sided conversational shit more often."  
  
The fact that this was the woman he had finally decided to keep at his side was starting to sink in, and Vejita closed his mouth and looked at her in a different, more serious light. Rather than something that he could show off and wield as a sort of bargaining tool, he also recognized her as the only person that he would willingly want to spend long periods of time with. That alone was the best compliment he could have given her, and he would, gladly, once she woke up. He would for every day for the rest of their lives, if thats what it took to keep her close.  
  
After a quick glance to make sure he was alone, Vejita touched his gloved hand to the glass, tracing the outline of her heart-shaped face on the glass. The residue from the blood on his gloves smeared on the glass, like a morbid caricature. Vejita's heart rate quickened initially at the disturbing sight before he quickly wiped it away. He would be the first to acknowledge that more blood had been shed by him on her behalf than any other single person.  
  
"If you ever betray me, or glance at another," he warned, in his own unique tone of fondness. "I'll not only dismember him, but you also. And that is as serious a threat as you'll ever receive from me, woman."  
  
Again, his response was stillness. Not that he minded. In fact, he rather liked being able to voice whatever he was thinking without an angry or shocked reaction from her. He reluctantly removed his hand from the glass and stepped away from her regen tank. If he stayed here any longer, he would undoubtedly begin to act like the lovesick fools that he had punished on so numerous an occasion.  
  
He turned back to the tank before exiting the room, opening his mouth to say something, but then snapped it shut, deciding against it. They would have the rest of their lives to talk. After one last look at her thin, floating figure, he left the room.  
  
If he had lingered but a moment longer, he might have seen the amused smile that graced Bulma's lips as he turned around.  
  
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Vejita walked away from the ship in an initially decent mood. But as he put his mind to the task(s) at hand, his mood gradually grew more towards its normal state - sour. He noted the calming affect that Bulma had on his state of mind and filed it away for future reference; it could come in handy when trying to stay sane in dealing with difficult foreign leaders.  
  
As he approached his destination on the outskirts of the city, not far from the ship, he was able to ignore the turmoil that was going on nearby in the capital. As far as the humans and their government was concerned, he felt that he could procrastinate at least long enough to carry out the things that Bulma would have found most pressing - the fate of Maylene and Lady Briefs, her mother.  
  
Maylene had already been taken care of by Magdalene, so Vejita headed now for one of the other, smaller ships that had followed his own giant one down to Earth. It had a holding cell that contained Lady Briefs until he made a decision about what to do with her. He had made that decision only minutes before - his memory of Bulma describing the treatment she had received from her mother had inspired it.  
  
After all, torture and punishment was his forte.  
  
The ship was surrounded by several loitering Saiyan troops, who immediately went down on their knees in respect when Vejita came into their sight. He walked by without even acknowledging them, and strode right onto the ship.   
  
The corridors were all the same on this model of ship, so he had no need to ask for directions. The holding area was at the back of the craft, and two tall, particularly heavyset warriors stood watch at the entrance of the actual cell, which was shaded from view by protective curtains. They bowed to their prince, and awaited their orders.  
  
"Let me see the human crone," Vejita commanded. "And when I call, enter the cell and do what you're told, understand?"  
  
"Yes, Vejita-Ou," they responded. Their title for him reminded Vejita of his earlier promise to give the power back to Magdalene once the war was over. He carelessly tucked the thought into the back of his mind for later examination. One of the guards unlocked the door, stepped back, and allowed Vejita to enter. The door closed heavily behind him.  
  
When his eyes adjusted to the darker light of holding cell, he made out the form of Lady Briefs in one of the corners, sitting on the uncomfortable cot that had been provided for her. Her posture was ridiculously straight, and her hands were folded neatly in her pressed lap, as if she were sitting at a dinner table in the palace. Vejita's hate for this woman that he had only heard about flared up at the sight of her sour, only slightly wrinkled face. The only resemblence between she and her daughter were the blue eyes (though hers weren't nearly as bright or nicely shaped) and the unmistakablely noble features.  
  
"If you weren't a barbarian culture, then I would be placed in much more comfortable accomadations, which is proper for a woman of my status," Lady Briefs complained after an awkward moment. "Not only is this incredibly rude, but it is also insulting."   
  
"Shut the fuck up," Vejita growled at her harshly, pacing slowly back and forth along the opposite side of the cell. She flinched at his words and the violence behind them, perhaps one of the only times she had ever displayed her fear. "From this point on, I only want to hear your annoying voice when I ask you a direct question. Got it?"   
  
Lady Briefs lifted her chin and looked as if she were about to protest.  
  
"In case you haven't heard yet, I am not one to make empty threats," Vejita warned her, his black eyes burning holes in her face. "So if you want to keep all limbs attached, I suggest that you follow my orders. You hold no position of honor any longer, nor will you ever again. As far as I'm concerned, all of the nobles from Yamcha's court can starve in the streets with the peasants that you all so happily condemned."  
  
The cornflower blue eyes widened, then narrowed, but Lady Briefs' notoriously large mouth remained closed. Vejita relaxed a bit more, and was almost beginning to enjoy himself. But the real amusing part was yet to come.  
  
"As long as you're here, I thought that I'd inform you of what's going to happen now that Yamcha's strung up on a pole in your town square," Vejita continued, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I'll talk about Bulma, since I'm sure that you're dying to know the fate of your dear, delicious young one." Lady Briefs' eyebrows snapped together at his mocking tone and the sexual endearment that had been appointed to her daughter. "She will be leaving this Kami-forsaken place with me, and she won't ever come back. She'll become the Queen of the Saiyan Empire once I assume the throne, and she'll never have to suffer, nor think of your sorry ass, ever again. I get personal satisfaction out of the fact that she'll be purposely attempting to go against every one of your beliefs for the rest of her life, don't you?"  
  
Lady Briefs hesitated, even though she was allowed to respond to a question. "She'll be worse off for it, too. I made her -- I'm the only reason that she's who she is today!"  
  
Vejita rolled his eyes. "No, you're the only reason that she was being beaten by Yamcha. Get your fucking facts straight."  
  
The older woman glowered.  
  
"Maylene, Bulma's little friend that you took such a liking to--" Lady Briefs also grimaced at this lie. "has been invited to come back to Vejitasei with us, and there's no doubt in my mind that she has accepted Magdalene's offer. She'll likely live out her life as one of the higher members of the Saiyan court, meaning that she'll eventually have a higher status than you ever had." He decided to add in another comment, to make Lady Briefs' weak stomach turn. "Judging by the way some of my men have been looking at her, she'll be interbreeding in no time. Doesn't it please you to know that your race is integrating in mine so fast?"  
  
"The girl was always a whore -- I expected no less," Lady Brifes snapped, recognizing his attempt to make her angry. "Not that your men won't be at fault. You are all like animals, constantly ready to pounce on any approaching female."  
  
Vejita chuckled. "This planet will most likely become an industrial center for the Saiyan Empire. The seasons change too drastically and get too damned cold to qualify Earth as a vacation spot. Your palace will be plown over, or even better, occupied by Saiyan leaders. Your people will either become laborers in the factories, or will have to move someplace else. Earth as you know it will be over. How about that?"  
  
"The people on this planet will never subject to that kind of torture," Lady Briefs said confidently. "Least of all the upper class. And something tells me that Bulma won't stand for it, either."  
  
"The people will have no choice," Vejita countered, equally confident. He leaned against the wall of the cell and crossed his arms. "If they resist, we kill them. Its as simple as that. As for Bulma -- she won't ever know. Did you honestly think that I would change my ways just because there's a pacifist in the palace? I can easily shield her from knowing the truth. And I will."  
  
Lady Briefs' eyes had narrowed down to accusing, angry slits. Suddenly, all of her noble beauty seemed to have faded away, leaving behind nothing but an old, wrinkled hag. Vejita now saw what Bulma had been seeing her entire life. His hate grew, like the forces behind a thunderstorm.  
  
"With that said, I suppose I'd better get to it, eh?" Vejita turned and started to leave the cell. He had opened the door and was about to step out when Lady Briefs bravely spoke out behind him, which was exactly what he had expected. He looked over his shoulder.  
  
"You've so kindly given me the big picture, but why don't you share a few details?" she demanded. "What about me? What is my fate?"  
  
Vejita turned his face away from her and smirked. His eyes shone with pleasure. "You... you'll be given exactly what you've bestowed upon my mate for her whole life." He didn't have to say it aloud for her to understand -- slow suffering.  
  
He stepped out of the cell, but did not close the door behind him. Instead, he paused. The guards stared, anticipating an order. They were correct.  
  
"This woman has wronged your new queen," he growled. "Have fun with her, boys. Use your imagination."  
  
The men guffawed, showing their Saiyan fangs with sadistic giddiness "With pleasure, Vejita-sama," they immediately consented. They entered the cell, smiles large and grisly. Vejita got a brief glimpse of one of them eagerly grabbing at the woman's dress before the door closed behind them.  
  
As Vejita strode away, the smirk frozen on his face, Lady Briefs' horrified screams followed him through the hallways and out of the ship.  
  
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Radditz strode towards Vejita's almost impossibly high power level, half-heartedly doing Magdalene's bidding - find Vejita (again) and tell him that Bulma was (finally) out of the regen tank. Usually, his mind would have been on the task and the task alone, as was expected of him, but today... it was different. Today, there was a woman involved - however foolish that might have sounded.  
  
Normally, he didn't go for alien girls, but this one was different. His mouth curved into a little grin as he recalled Lady Maylene's carefully coiffed dark hair and voluptuous figure. She was one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen - almost as pretty as Bulma, in his opinion. And unlike almost all of the Earth girls he had encountered so far, she actually had the audacity to mouth off to the Saiyan warriors. That alone earned his respect, if not his admiration. She reminded him of a Saiyan girl in that way.  
  
Magdalene had offered her a chance to come to Vejitasei, and he was almost positive that she was going to accept. If she did... he allowed himself a brief daydream involving himself and Maylene in an indecently transluscent wrap, headed down to the ocean for a quick swim... maybe even some skinny-dipping...   
  
Radditz didn't realize that he was grinning like a fool, completely unaware of his surroundings until he ran smack into the very man he had been looking for - Vejita.  
  
"Ompf!" he managed to exclaim as he broke out of his daze and fell unceremoniously to the ground. "My apologies, Your Majesty, I'm so sorry, I -"  
  
"Save it," Vejita snapped, brushing himself off and watching Radditz like he was an annoying insect. The slightly disturbing smirk that had been on his face before vanished. "What do you want?"  
  
Radditz got to his feet as quickly as possible. "Magdalene sent me. She wanted me to tell you that Bulma has been released from the regen tank, she thought that you might want to -"  
  
"What, drop by with a bouquet of flowers and a declaration of my love?" Vejita interuppted dryly. "You can tell her that I don't play that foolish game. When I am finished attending to business, I'll go and see the woman. She's recovered - that's all that I have to know for now." It was a particularly callous remark, but Vejita could not bring himself to show his excitement and relief in front of a fellow Saiyan. He had softened towards Bulma a great deal over time, but he still had his limits.  
  
"I... see, Vejita-Ou," Radditz trailed off, unsure of Vejita's odd response. "That was all she sent me to say. May I be dismissed, sir?" The anxiousness in his voice was unavoidable.  
  
Vejita looked suspicious. "What are you all excited about?"  
  
"Nothing, nothing at all!" Radditz claimed, though he was very vividly picturing he and Maylene's reunion as she packed her things onto the ship. "I'm just very happy that we're closing shop and going home tomorrow."  
  
"As well you should be," Vejita grumbled. "This place is making everyone fucking loony. All right, soldier, you are dismissed. Now get out of my sight."  
  
Radditz bowed, turned on his heel, and sprinted back towards the main ship. Perhaps Maylene would had returned by now, preparing for tomorrow's journey. He didn't want to seem too desperate, but he couldn't stand delaying any further.  
  
In his mind, they were an item already.  
  
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After Vejita finished his atypical one-sided conversation, Bulma settled herself back down within the regen tank. His presence in the room seemed to jolt her awake with its energy, and she wondered if it was a result of all of the time they had spent with each other. In any case, she did not have the chance to dwell on it long, because after a few moments of his absence, she gave in to unconsciousness.  
  
When she came to again after what felt like days, the liquid was draining from the space around her. She opened her eyes, blinked the water out of them, and took a second to focus. Magdalene's imperial figure lingered across the room. She was conversing with a doctor, but when the door to Bulma's regen tank began to open, and some doctors came over to assist her, Magdalene made her way over, her heels clicking on the marble floor.  
  
"I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever come out. I had almost forgotten the difference in your immune system and ours," she commented, her voice full of relief. "Lets get you dressed, dear, and then we can talk. How does that sound?"  
  
Bulma felt instantly comforted in Magdalene's commanding yet motherly company. "It sounds wonderful," she replied quietly. As a female doctor led her to a door that apparently led to a bathroom or dressing room of some sort, Bulma noticed for the first time that someone had changed her into a white hospital gown. Her torn, bloody gown was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"Right through that door, Your Majesty," the doctor informed her with an almost incomprehensible accent. With a respectful smile and a small curtsy, she handed Bulma a simple, Saiyan-style wrap made of an unfamiliar lavender fabric.  
  
The room was in fact a bathroom, with no bath. A full-length mirror was on the wall across from the sink. Bulma changed slowly, examining her reflection in the mirror as she slid the damp hospital garment over her head.  
  
The cuts on her arms were almost completely healed - only pink, healing scrapes remained, a temporary mark of shame. Her bruised face had been totally cleared, but her complexion was still paler than normal. When she put the wrap on, she noticed that it hung from her thin frame a bit more than it should have. Knowing that both Magdalene and Vejita would chide her about being underweight, she made a mental note to be sure to eat more than usual. Not that that was a difficult task, she thought, picturing her normal meals consisting of merely a few forkfuls. Her hair was still disheveled and tangled. She could do nothing about that without a brush, but at least the long tresses were clean. Hastily, Bulma used the few pins that were in her hair already and made do. It wasn't as if the Saiyans cared that much for appearances anyway.  
  
Magdalene was waiting for her, alone in the large room, when she emerged again. "You look much better. Underweight, and pale, but alive at least. Both those conditions can be easily taken care of once we get home." Smiling, she took a matching cloak from a nearby doctor and secured it to Bulma's shoulders.  
  
Home - she meant Vejitasei. Bulma did not speak as the wonderful reality overwhelmed her. She could almost feel the warm sun tanning her virgin skin. She did not even allow herself to think of all the enormous meals that would be prepared for them, for fear that her stomach would begin to complain.   
  
"I understand how you feel perfectly," the Saiyan Queen said, reading Bulma's dreamy expression. "We'll have lots of time to talk about your duties on Vejitasei later. Walk with me for now - I have some things to speak with you about."  
  
Bulma nodded, took the Queen's offered hand, and allowed her to pull her out of the medical wing and outside, where the weather had taken a warm turn. Magdalene released her firm hold on her hand. Bulma couldn't possibly remain so tense when the sun was able to reach her bare arms and shoulders. It was one of the most wonderful sensations she had ever felt in her life.  
  
"Things can only get better from here," Magdalene assured her, noticing her relaxation. "Which is what I mainly wanted to speak to you about."  
  
They strolled in the opposite direction of the city, towards the outskirts, where the terrain became less populated. Magdalene asked about the kinds of trees as they passed several copses, to which Bulma answered minimally. Finally, they stopped in a small circle of trees, where Magdalene seated herself on a boulder. Bulma followed suit, sitting across from her and feeling as if she were about to be interrogated.  
  
"Stop slouching your shoulders and hiding your face like that," Magdalene suddenly ordered, reaching out to grab hold of Bulma's small chin. She lifted it so Bulma's blue eyes were staring straight at her, and her chin was slightly lifted in a confident position. "Pretty soon, you will be the Saiyan Princess, and you will bow to no one." When Bulma's eyes widened a little, she smiled tightly. "You might as well get used to it now, dear -- people will either be too frightened of Vejita or too intimidated by your beauty to even think of making eye contact, so that is something that you'll have to learn to initiate yourself."  
  
"Have you brought me here for an etiquette lesson?" Bulma retorted, maintaining the imperial posture. Some of her old humor had returned to her eyes. "Because if you have, I'd like to know so that I can leave now."  
  
"Now you just sound like my son," the other women responded with a laugh. "Don't ever scare me like that. The answer is no - I just couldn't stand to see you look so defeated. You are not a 'third-class', as Vejita would put it. Yamcha might have tolerated you being in the background, but on Vejitasei, you will be fully expected to take on your status like you mean it."  
  
Bulma felt a little light-headed. It wasn't that she was scared to take on royal duties, it was just that she hardly knew what to expect. On Earth, all that was expected of queen was looks - and offspring. Basically, Bulma's job had been to stand beside Yamcha and look prettier than anyone else. She had been aching for more to do her entire life, but she had no idea what the monarch of an enormous empire like that of the Saiyan's was supposed to be responsible for.  
  
"I can see that you're confused. And I understand perfectly. Nobody will expect you to get it right on the first day -- or even the first year. After you've had some guidance, I'm almost positive that you'll fit right in. You were born to be a ruler, Bulma, and its apparent to everyone who meets you." She offered a warm, comforting smile. "Anyone who sees your bright smile and pretty face won't be able to say no."  
  
"What did you really bring me here for, then?"  
  
"I'm concerned about you," Magdalene answered honestly. "Needing some time to recover from all of this is natural and perfectly all right, but I'm worried that your grieving time will be an extended one."  
  
Bulma forgot her posture and cast her eyes to the ground. Her sadness threatened to choke her like a pair of strong hands.  
  
Magdalene's hand on Bulma's arm caused her to tense. "You must let go of this depression, as soon as you possibly can," she urged her. "Think not only of yourself, but of those - including myself - who love you. By withdrawing yourself from us, you're pushing away any chance of help that may - and will - be offered to you."   
  
"Believe me, my grieving won't come to that," Bulma protested. "But you can't expect me to recover instantly. My entire universe has just been turned upside down, and I do not have the mental capacity to take that in all at once, without some stress."  
  
"I understand that. I just have a feeling that some future problems may arise. You're going to have to get used to interrogations like this from now on, Bulma, because people who care about you are prone to giving them when they think you need it. You aren't alone anymore."  
  
Bulma, who had tears in her eyes, nodded and wiped a falling droplet off her cheek. "Thank you so much for your kindness to me," she said.   
  
"Its no problem," Magdalene assured her, standing to enclose her in a loving embrace. "You are the closest thing to a daughter I've ever had, dear, and its only going to get better from here."  
  
Bulma, who had never really experienced the unique mother-daughter relationship as most people know it, could say nothing, just return her hug.   
  
"Find some peace for a moment," Magdalene advised her. "This is as quiet a place as you'll find around here. Take a second and pull yourself together." With a final smile, she turned and disappeared down the road in the direction from which they had come.  
  
The human woman watched her until she was gone, crying without really knowing why. She was so sick of crying - she angrily wiped both cheeks with her hands, leaving her white skin red and blotchy. Magdalene's words had rung true with her. She knew that her depression was not about to leave so easily. It hid in the dark corners of her mind even then, waiting for the next vulnerable moment. She could easily detect it, but effectively pushing it back was going to be another matter entirely.  
  
Swallowing her tears for good, she glared down at her lap, where her nervous hands were clenching the lavender material of her wrap. Her knuckles were white as bone. Bulma rolled her eyes at her own self and forced her hands to stay at her sides, where they would not betray her.  
  
Magdalene had ordered her to find some peace. She supposed that for a normal person, that might not be the most difficult task, but what was her brand of peace, really? She couldn't remember ever feeling completely at peace, besides a few rare times when she had been alone with Vejita on his own planet. But even then, she corrected herself, a fear had been lurking in the back of her mind - fear of being discovered and punished.  
  
It seemed like such a simple thing, peace. Bulma could identify it in others easily enough. It was the emotion that made people light on their feet and completely unguarded. It was what allowed people to laugh at jokes and dance in public, and it went hand in hand with happiness, as far as she could tell. Not that she had a very good idea of what happiness was like, either.  
  
She sighed heavily, lowering her head to rest in her hands. If this was what happened when she was alone and trying to think, she would make a point to always be in the company of others from this point on. This was just too depressing.  
  
Then, as if on cue, she heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind her. Considering that the only people currently inhabiting the area were the rowdy Saiyan soldiers, her prospects weren't looking too great. She almost wanted to laugh out loud.  
  
"Wonderful," she groaned to herself as the person approached. "What next? Acid rain? Another war, perhaps?"  
  
"I can't do much about the first option, but I'm fairly certain that I can bring about the second one, if that is what you wish."  
  
Bulma would have recognized that voice anywhere, dazed or not. "Vejita?" She started to turn to look at him, but discovered that he was already at her side. She had forgotten his Saiyan speed - and his tendency to sneak up on people.  
  
"In the flesh before you," he confirmed in a smug tone, obviously pleased that he had given her a scare. "How long have you been out of the regen tank?"  
  
"I'm not sure," she said hesitantly. "Not that long." His face tightened, and Bulma realized that she had slipped right back into the monotonous state that Magdalene had advised her to do away with. To amend her mistake, she reached out to grasp Vejita's hand and offered a warm smile. "From the looks of it, everything went over well since I've been recovered. You'll have to tell me all about what's been happening."  
  
Vejita frowned, not the reaction she had been expecting. "Why do you hide your grief, woman, when you know that I can see right through your facade?"  
  
Bulma averted her eyes - they had given her away. "I'm recovering as quickly as I can, but unfortunately... mental scars don't heal as fast as the physical ones do." He released her hand, and Bulma felt a chest tightened with hurt. She had smothered the last of her tears, but with the way the conversation was going, it looked as if she would have to release them again.  
  
"I would rather have you depressed and grieving than pretending to feel something that isn't there."  
  
She met his eyes, and saw that he spoke the truth. "Magdalene said -"  
  
"Fuck what my mother said," Vejita disrupted. "If you took her advice, you would be in the same situation on Vejitasei that you were in here. Even if you are downcast, you'll fit right in - we aren't exactly known for being happy-go-lucky anyway." The recent bloodshed and mass murder of her people were an ironic piece of evidence to back his statement up.  
  
"Can we please not speak about this anymore?" Bulma requested painfully.   
  
Vejita studied her for a second, making sure that his words had stuck, whether they were painful to her or not. "What do you propose we should talk about then?"  
  
"The future," Bulma suggested. "Starting with the future of someone in particular."  
  
"Your bitch mother has been taken care of," Vejita assured her, already guessing who it was that she had been concerned about. "Don't ask for the details unless you think you have a strong stomach."  
  
Bulma shuddered at the sight of his wicked half-smile and took his advice. She already felt better knowing that something had been done, no matter what it was exactly. "Thank you so much," she exhaled softly. "She's been extending her horrible influence in my life for so many years now..."  
  
"What happened to the future?" Vejita questioned. "Since she has no place in your future, I don't think that this conversation falls under the 'future' category."  
  
"It certainly doesn't," Bulma agreed. "I have a question to start out with - when are we leaving?"  
  
He chuckled. "Tomorrow. But it can be sooner if you like. Or later... I've always enjoyed watching the aftermath of a war, especially one that was of my making." He spoke with pride, as if this war had been something akin to a work of art.  
  
"I would prefer the scheduled time, thank you very much," Bulma answered predictably.   
  
There was a pregnant silence. Vejita's eyes were locked on her, but she couldn't read their expression. Strangely, she did not feel uncomfortable beneath his gaze, or just sitting there in silence with him. It felt natural to sit and think in his presence. She noticed that her fingers were unclenched and resting her lap motionlessly.   
  
"What next?" she finally asked. "What happens now, after we leave this place behind?"  
  
"We return to Vejitasei, where Magdalene will go senile eventually and I can assume the throne. Then you will the Queen of Vejitasei, and we can do whatever the hell we feel like. I especially enjoy vacationing on one of our neighboring planets - Harbynsei. The climate is similar to the tropical rain forests of your planet. There are no intelligent lifeforms there anymore, so its an ideal place to be... alone." Vejita smirked at the last idea, clearly enjoying some sort of daydream.  
  
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Bulma advised with a smile. "Something tells me that Magdalene will not be going senile anytime soon."  
  
"Believe me," Vejita said with rare humor. "There are enough idiots in the palace to speed insanity along. I'm thinking of one in particular..."  
  
Bulma giggled in spite of herself. "Why must you always harass poor Kakkarott? He is one of the nicest men I know - he doesn't deserve your harsh treatment."  
  
Vejita was relieved to just be having a normal conversation with Bulma, even if it was about Kakkarott, so he decided to keep the arguing to a minimum. He got to his feet and held out a hand to assist Bulma. "Enough about Kakkarott - we should be getting back to the ship so that you can rest."  
  
"That sounds nice." Bulma basked in this uncharacteristic tenderness, because she knew that it would not last long. "Lead the way, Vejita-Ou."  
  
He smirked slowly, then held out his arm for Bulma to take. "I have to admit that I like how that sounds." When Bulma raised a brow quizzically, he elaborated. "I could always keep the throne, you know. It would be almost ridiculously easy to keep control until Magdalene could be properly subdued. What do you think, woman?"  
  
Bulma narrowed her eyes. "I think that you'd better close your mouth and keep on walking."  
  
Vejita humbly took her advice, but silently gloated at the knowledge that he had the power to keep Bulma happy. Not that he had expected anything less.  
  
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The next morning, Bulma stood before one of the enormous windows in Vejita's ship, maintaining her quiet train of thought amongst all the craziness going on around her.  
  
The Saiyans had been scurrying around all night and into the morning, preparing for their return trip to Vejitasei. About half of the soldiers were staying behind to make sure that order was maintained, but to Bulma it seemed like the entire army was surrounding the area around the city, boarding the ships and just generally being rowdy. The thought that Vejita was rushing them all along for her benefit made her smile and grip the soft material of her sky blue wrap tighter. Everything seemed so perfect, she had been on her tiptoes all day just in case it was a dream.  
  
"What are you doing just standing around?" a loud voice demanded from behind her.  
  
Bulma whirled around to meet Maylene face-to-face. The black-haired woman was walking with Chichi, toting a small bag - perfectly color-coordinated with her dress, of course. Chichi looked healthy and happy behind her, cheeks rosy in her pregnant state.  
  
"Thinking," Bulma responded. Which she had been - she had been thinking about the prospect of never seeing Earth again. It wasn't a bad thought, just an unusual one. "What do you think I should be doing instead, m'lady?"  
  
"Well, for one thing, you can quit with that 'm'lady' shit," Maylene retorted. At Bulma's surprised look, she grinned impishly. "Hey, now that I'm going to be living with the Saiyans, I suppose I should start integrating myself into their culture now. Losing that horrible, formal vocabulary is just the beginning. When we get to Vejitasei, the first thing I'm going to do is get fitted for one of those wraps that the women are always wearing. I don't think I'll ever look or think of a corset ever again!"  
  
"Me either," Bulma agreed. "Where are you off to?"  
  
"We're going to see our rooms," Chichi told her. "And I, for one, need to sit down for a little bit. Morning sickness, you see." She smiled a bit tightly, then continued along down the hallway, leaving Maylene and Bulma alone.  
  
Maylene hugged her best friend from behind and held the embrace, resting her chin on Bulma's shoulder to follow her gaze out the window. Outside the ship, Vejita and Magdalene were attempting to bring order and organization to the busy scene before them. "Your new man is quite the catch," she stated mischeviously. "Especially in that nice armor that he wears... I'd settle for any one of these guys, quite frankly."  
  
"I'm sure that you'll find someone," Bulma assured her with a smile. "And yes, he is a 'catch', as you would call it."  
  
Maylene nodded against her shoulder, keeping her potential relationship Radditz to herself - for now. They stood in silence for a moment, watching Vejita and Magdalene. "They're pretty amazing," she finally said. "I'm so happy for you, Bulma-chan. I was scared for such a long time."  
  
"I know," was all Bulma could think to say. "I know."  
  
The other woman ended the embrace and moved up beside Bulma. "You're getting something that hardly anyone ever receives - a second chance." She reached over and gave Bulma's shoulder a last squeeze. "And I have a feeling that its going to turn out okay this time."  
  
"Me, too," Bulma agreed quietly.   
  
"I'll catch you later," Maylene promised, stepping away from her and heading in the direction that Chichi had gone. "Keep your chin up, alright?"  
  
Bulma nodded, even though Maylene had already disappeared into the crowd and into another part of the ship. Maylene had basically hit it on the nose - she had gotten a second chance, something that was extremely rare. She had a chance to make her life everything that she had always dreamed it could be, and that filled her with a new, tingling energy that she could barely contain.  
  
Below the ship, Magdalene and Vejita supervised the loading of the nearby ships. Vejita had assigned his elites to running the show for now, to spare himself the work. Magdalene was happy with his decision - she would much rather have him next to her complaining about other people's incompetence than out there working up a bad mood for later. She wanted nothing to spoil Bulma's day of liberation, as she had come to think of it as. She wanted everything to go smoothly, and for Vejita's temper to remain cool for the duration. In other words, her expections were pretty damn high.  
  
"What the hell are you looking so smug about?" Vejita snapped. So much for keeping his temper down, Magdalene thought to herself. "You're getting your fucking throne back. You don't have to gloat about it."  
  
"I was doing no such thing," Magdalene retorted. "I was just thinking of how well this is all going. I expected a little more chaos, that's all."  
  
"I put my best men in charge to prevent just that. I'm sick of dealing with that pack of ignorant bastards." Vejita surveyed the last of the warriors with distaste as they joked and guffawed loudly and boarded the ships. "I would much rather be sitting in my room, watching this happen in peace with a drink in my hand."  
  
"I'm sure you would," Magdalene said. "Why don't you realize that dream and head up there?"  
  
Vejita gave her an angry look. "If I needed your permission, I would have -"  
  
"This had nothing to do with permission," Magdalene cut in. "Just get your ass up there and spend some time with Bulma before we leave. She needs your arrogant self more than I do, though at the moment I can't understand why." She waved her jeweled fingers in the direction of the ship, her lips curved up into an amused half-smile that startingly resembled that of her son. "Just go."  
  
Vejita hesitated for a moment, deciding whether or not he should reprimand her for ordering him around. He decided against it, and instead headed for the ship without another word. Magdalene watched him go, rolling her green eyes at his attempts to hide his anxiety at being alone with Bulma.  
  
"We'll be ready for take off in thirty minutes, Your Majesty," one of Vejita's elites informed her. "The last of the men are boarding now - it is time for you to be getting into the ship as well."  
  
"Yes, yes of course." Magdalene waved him off and walked towards the ship.  
  
Before she stepped onto the ramp, however, she turned to look at the deserted city for one last time. Ironically, through the buildings in the distance, she could just make out Yamcha's disfigured corpse (aka Vejita's misguided but still sincere parting gift to what was left of the human population) hanging in the main city square. As sick as it might have sounded, it was the perfect farewell.  
  
"May Kami save us all," she muttered to herself as she entered the ship. "I have a feeling that this is going to be a long year."  
  
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Author's Note: Its finally the end!!!! Wow... it seems like I've been working on this fic for years now, even though its been only one year since I first posted it. All I can say is, THANK YOU!!!! I could never begin to describe how great you guys have been from the very start. I'll give a few special people their due in the epilogue, which should be posted in a few weeks. Besides that, there's nothing left to say but another huge THANK YOU, and a humble request to review for the (next to last) time. Ciao!  
  
--- Rhapsody (HawaiianBabayaol.com)  
  



	41. Epilogue

..................................U N F A I T H F U L  
  
...................................................................................Rhapsody  
  
Epilogue: Two Years Later  
  
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Magdalene stood, rather uncharacteristically, hiding behind a boulder bordering the beach. A few years ago, she would have never pictured herself hiding from anyone like a fearful coward instead of confronting the people directly. As a matter of fact, she would have laughed the prospect off before whoever had suggested it could finish the sentence. Yet here she was, spying on her son and the beginnings of a new royal family. She had been finding herself doing all sorts of strange things lately, so she shouldn't have been too surprised.  
  
Like the previous night, at Nappa's birthday celebration, for instance. She had been sitting atop her throne, as usual, surveying the crowds as if she were above it all. Then, three goblets of wine later (which usually wasn't enough to even faze her), she had been shocked to find herself dancing with the rest of them, like some kind of noblewoman - behavior certainly not normal for a queen of the Saiyan people.   
  
Another case where she had done something unusual occured just a few days before that, when Bulma had announced her sudden pregnancy. Well, perhaps not completely sudden, considering that Vejita had to have made the conscious choice to conceive - but Bulma perhaps was not aware of that. Instead of congratulating her son and new daughter-in-law on their baby in a fit of excitement, she had quietly slipped out of the room and dissolved into private tears. She had avoided unhappy or stressful situations since.  
  
But even stranger than the other two occurences were the physical symptons - hot flashes, irregular periods, and general moodiness. Magdalene remembered hearing something having to do with the symptoms she was having, but she couldn't seem to place them, and due to lack of time and an excess of pride, she hadn't gotten around to asking anyone yet. Nor would she ever.  
  
It seemed that her symptoms were there to stay. As Magdalene watched Bulma turn over for an even tan, while Vejita did nothing to hide the fact that he was thoroughly enjoying the display, she felt her chest tighten with emotion. Never could she have imagined that things would turn out so well! Much to her dismay, her vision blurred with tears. Frustrated and ashamed, she turned her back to the pair, waving her hands in front of her face frantically.  
  
"Magdalene?"  
  
The Saiyan Queen froze, quickly regained her wits and wiped away her tears, then turned around to confront Bulma, who was retying the straps of her bathing suit around her neck. Her blue eyes questioned Magdalene gently, never pressing, never agitated. Magdalene didn't know how she could do it - at least she couldn't understand it at the moment.  
  
"What are you doing standing over here all alone?" Bulma asked. Vejita approached them and stopped behind Bulma, his black eyes narrowed at his mother's suspicious behavior  
  
Magdalene lifted her chin. "Actually, I was planning to join you, but upon seeing your choice of entertainment, I decided not to. If I wanted to see some kids drooling over each other, I would have gone and payed the courtiers a visit."  
  
Bulma lifted a brow but said nothing. Vejita, however, was not so kind.  
  
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded bluntly - he never had been one to dance around the point. "You've been going through more mood swings than the woman who's actually pregnant lately."  
  
"Are you okay?" Bulma reached out to put a hand on Magdalene's forehead, checking for fever. She was still painfully beautiful, despite her slightly swollen abdomen and newly acquired suntan. "You've been acting an awful lot like you're going through a phase that women on Earth go throu-"  
  
"Women on Earth," Magdalene pointed out, interuppting her. "There's nothing the matter with me, dear. I'm simply under a lot of stress at the moment." Her lie was blatant, as there had been peace for the most part throughout the past two years. "The plans for Bulma's baby celebration have been rather trying."  
  
Vejita snorted. "I'd wager that you haven't lifted a finger to plan a damn thing besides the dress that you're going to wear - and perhaps not even that."  
  
"Let her be," Bulma scolded Vejita. "She's obviously not feeling well. Let's go back to the palace - I think that I'm nearly sunburned anyway."  
  
Vejita rolled his eyes, but reluctantly followed Bulma and Magdalene back towards the palace. Bulma's small hand rested on Magdalene's shoulder, expressing her obvious concern. To Vejita, it was a sickening display of needless emotion - he reached forward and gently pulled Bulma away from Magdalene and back to his side. His irritation was apparent in the tight grip he had around her waist.  
  
"For Kami's sake, Vejita," Bulma complained, trying feebly to unwrap his iron grip around her middle. "I'm pregnant, not made of glass!"  
  
He growled under his breath at her, and she quit her complaining. "What do you think is wrong with her?" he asked quietly, pulling Bulma closer so that Magdalene could not make out his words. "You mentioned something about a disease that women get on Earth."  
  
"Its not a disease at all," Bulma corrected him. "Its something that every human woman of an older age go through. They experience mood swings, hot flashes, and just generally strange behavior. Its called menopause." She smiled wickedly, a trait she had picked up from Maylene. "You know, when I reach that age, I might go through the very same thing."  
  
He resisted the urge to push her away, gritting his teeth. He didn't know if he could handle any more strange female behavior. Between Bulma's pregnancy and Magdalene's apparent 'menopause', he had had his hands full for the past couple months. He made a mental note to raid his stash of imported vodka (ironically, from Earth, where all his problems began) when they returned.  
  
Ahead of the couple, Magdalene frowned. She had heard every word that Bulma had said, and she could guess Vejita's words from the way that she had answered. Menopause? Her fists clenched in frustration, because she knew very well that Saiyan women suffered much the same thing, just at a later age. Which would make her a prime candidate. Her blood boiled in anger.  
  
They reached the outskirts of the city, which were filled with crowds shopping at the market. The crowd parted before them, which only fed Magdalene's anger - she wanted to push somebody around.  
  
An unfortunate old man in front of a fruit stand couldn't get out of her way quick enough. Magdalene smirked.  
  
"Move it!" she shouted. "I'm the Saiyan Queen, Kami-dammit - I shouldn't have to jostle you around to get by!" When the man didn't move immediately - thanks to his shock and feeble old age - she simply shoved him out of her way. Her anger receded a bit, and she sighed as she continued towards the palace. Hopefully nothing was too badly broken.  
  
It was people like him that made menopause feel a hell of a lot better.  
  
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Maylene stood with Bulma and Chichi in her dressing room a few hours later. She held a pink, lace-trimmed wrap in front her of lingerie-clad body, examining her reflection in her enormous dressing mirror. She sighed, turning to see the wrap from a different angle, then gestured to her handmaiden.  
  
"What is this trash?" she ranted, tossing the garment at the servant forcefully. "When have I ever worn pink? I said that I wanted to look sexy, not like a fucking second grader! Find something else - preferably black." She watched as the girl scurried out of the room in search of something else, then turned back the mirror and sighed. "I thought that the servant master would have chosen better help for me after I sent the last girl back - apparently I was wrong."  
  
Bulma smiled fondly at her friend's reflection. "You aren't the easiest woman to please, Maylene. You've sent every single servant you've had back. Don't you think its time to lower your standards?"  
  
"Lower my standards?" Maylene repeated incredulously. "I don't care if you're a Saiyan Princess or not - why should my help be so inferior to yours? I order more people around than you do! Besides, if you had to live for so long on Earth without any luxuries, you'd want superior service, too."  
  
Chichi rolled her eyes at Maylene's little speech. "Neither one of you have room to complain," she reminded them seriously. "Try living in the third class neighborhood."  
  
Maylene felt a small pang of sympathy for the woman, who had miscarried her child shortly after returning to Vejitasei those two years ago. She had been slightly bitter ever since, and Kakkarott had reacted much the same. To add to their troubles, Vejita had refused to allow them to move up in the Saiyan heirarchy as they (and Bulma) had hoped. Then, shortly after refusing their request, he had returned the power to his mother, and the issue had been dismissed ever since. While Magdalene was sympathetic, she would not make a mockery of her son's power by undoing his orders. Maylene was just grateful that Vejita had allowed her to become a first-class citizen (on Bulma and Magdalene's insistence, of course) and remain one.  
  
"I'm sorry, Chichi," Bulma said. "There was nothing that I could do to convince him to change his mind."  
  
Maylene grinned mischeviously. "Oh, I'm sure that you two could have come up with something. Actually," she glanced at Bulma's slightly protruding abdomen. "it looks like you already did. Do I have your baby to thank for my status?"  
  
"Most certainly not," Bulma assured her with a smile. "You have Radditz to thank for that. He really wanted you to become first class so that he could brag to his soldier friends about courting you."  
  
Maylene rolled her eyes, taking the black and red wrap offered to her by her returned handmaiden. She held it in front of herself doubtfully. "Radditz can brag all that he wants - he already knows that I am courted by no man. Since when have I ever confined myself to one?"  
  
It was true - Maylene was playing up her new status in Saiyan society to its fullest, and her many heated affairs were well-known and discussed around the palace. At first, her humanity had been a stigma among the Saiyan elite, but gradually both her and Bulma had come to be accepted and even liked by the other species. Besides, with her brashness and penchant for temper tantrums, Maylene could almost pass for a Saiyan herself.   
  
"This will have to do, I suppose," she consented, tossing the wrap back at her handmaiden. "Have it pressed and ready for me in thirty minutes. And draw my bath!"  
  
"Who's the lucky man tonight?" Bulma asked.  
  
"Whoever catches my eye," her best friend responded. "I swear to Kami, Bulma, I've had the most awful time picking one man out of a crowd here! I don't know why it took us so long to discover Saiyan men, but I'm sure as hell glad that we finally did."  
  
Bulma suppressed laughter at her friend's serious comment. Chichi rolled her eyes, being a Saiyan herself. "One of these days, one of your lovers is going to get angry at your infidelities and decide to take matters into his own hands. What will you do then?"  
  
Maylene shrugged, her cherry lips pursed in thought. "I suppose I'll stand aside and settle for the man who is left standing. But I doubt that I'd reform so soon after that."  
  
"Radditz is a bit over the top sometimes, but he's harmless, and a deserving man at that," Bulma scolded, half-seriously. "Don't you think its time that you stop dancing circles around each other and finally admit to your feelings?"  
  
The other human continued staring at her reflection for a moment, her smile gone. "But you know that I love to dance," she retorted, moving towards her bathroom, where her bath was being drawn. "If you'll excuse me now, ladies, I have a celebration to prepare for - as do you."  
  
The bathroom door slammed behind her, leaving Chichi and Bulma sitting on Maylene's bed. "I'll never understand that girl," Chichi said, getting to her feet. "I thought that we might have something in common back on Earth, when she was helping us find you, but she's changed much since then."  
  
"She's like her old self again," Bulma told her. "And I rather like it. Don't worry about her and Radditz - they'll find each other eventually."  
  
The two women exited Maylene's rooms and started down the hall. Chichi and Bulma had been spending more together as time went on, especially since Bulma's pregnancy, and Bulma had found that she enjoyed the down-to-earth attitude that Chichi had. It was a much-needed relief from Maylene's wild tactics and Magdalene's commanding presence, no matter how much Vejita disapproved.  
  
"What are you planning to wear for the celebration tonight?" Bulma asked her carefully, knowing that Chichi had to be gently eased into any conversation about fashion. "Which reminds me - I'm so glad that you've decided to accompany Kakkarott for once! I shall be grateful for your presence, what with Maylene and Radditz continuing their ridiculous drama and with Vejita and Magdalene arguing throughout the entire evening." Not that she minded it particularly, it was just that even in times of peace, her newfound family could be a little trying.  
  
"I haven't given an extra thought to it," Chichi said carelessly. "Probably my nicest wrap - something in a shade of beige, I guess."  
  
Bulma resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Chichi's predictability. "One of these days, Chichi, I'm going to take you to the market and find you something spectacular to surprise Kakkarott with. And it definitely will not contain any shades of beige."  
  
"Whatever you say, my lady," Chichi answered noncommittedly. They had reached the royal wing of the palace, where the two separated. "I should be getting back to my own home now, and out of Vejita's hair, as he would so kindly put it. I'll see you tonight."  
  
Bulma watched her disappear around the corner, then entered she and Vejita's chambers.   
  
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Vejita was trying his best to contain his infamous temper and resist the urge to kill his pestering protocol adviser when Bulma entered the room. It was a lucky thing for the advisor, Renvyr, that she had chosen that moment, or else he might have been sipping wine through a different hole in his head at the celebration later that night. The man knew it, too, because he exhaled in relief when the princess arrived.  
  
Bulma's appearance never failed to cause Vejita to stare uncharacteristically for a moment. She had changed much over the last two years, but it only enhanced her beauty. Her blue curls had been allowed to flow loosely over her shoulders, a luxury that Vejita knew that at least he was grateful for, and her skin had been darkened to a light golden color, which was as dark as Bulma's naturally fair complexion would get. Her face usually carried a dazzling smile, and her blue eyes gleamed brightly on most days. However, her eyes were the only thing that sometimes gave her happy facade away, for if he looked closely, he could discern a shadow behind the cerulean eyes. The knowledge didn't sadden or anger him anymore, because he had come to accept that fact that Bulma would be a long time in recovering from her hellish former life. The important thing was that she was content and unharmed now, and robustly healthy carrying his heir.  
  
"Renvyr, you may leave - or should I say, escape?" Bulma said to the servant humorously. "The next time you want to attempt to advise Vejita on fashion, I suggest that you send for me first."  
  
The man nodded and scurried to leave the room, taking his measuring tape and samples of fabric with him. Vejita remained standing, arms crossed, where Renvyr had left him, his face held tightly in the expression of a petulant child. He did not like Bulma mocking this annoying situation, but he would allow it from her only.  
  
"Where have you been while I was being subjected to torture?" he questioned irritably. "Shouldn't you be primping and planning like everyone else?"  
  
Bulma smiled and went to him, wrapping her thin arms around his neck good-naturedly. He resisted returning her embrace for a full thirty seconds before giving in and uncrossing his arms. "I was helping Maylene to choose her attire for the celebration. Don't say anything, but I think that she's dolling herself up for Radditz tonight."  
  
"The fool and that little harlot deserve each other," Vejita said, though Bulma knew fully well that he admired Maylene's boldness and appreciated Radditz's loyal service and friendship. "It doesn't seem right that she give up her little charade and allow Radditz to mate with her so soon - did you say something to her? Radditz was predicting that he would have to another couple months for her to submit."  
  
Bulma stepped away from him and crossed the room towards her closet. "Don't let me catch you mocking my best friend like that again. Besides, Maylene submits to no one - if they do decide to stay together, it will be on her terms." She cast a mockingly seductive glance over her shoulder as she opened the doors to her enormous wardrobe. "Speaking of mating - is there anything in here that especially inspires you, Vejita-Ouji?"  
  
Vejita rolled his eyes, but could not conceal a smirk of amusement. "I would prefer that we skipped the fucking party and celebrated alone, if you want to know the truth."  
  
She had expected such an answer, and selected a wrap at random. After all, Magdalene had seen to it that they were all masterpieces when she had first ordered them made, and her stomach wasn't quite large enough to call for a new wardrobe as of yet. She held a crimson garment with the other imperial colors - black and gold - worked into the trim and delicate ribbon that tied it just below her breasts and low at her waist. Noteworthy was the slit that would expose one leg and up to her thigh. She braced herself for the sarcastic comment from Vejita that was surely coming.  
  
He came up behind her, wrapping one arm around her waist, and looked at the gown closer. "Clever - a reminder for the court simpletons of your superior status, and a matching garment to my own choice. I couldn't have selected a better one myself."   
  
"Is that all?" Bulma asked. "Usually you have at least a few more things to say."  
  
Vejita smirked against her neck, his teeth grazing the mark he had placed there. "My thoughts on the cut of the garment are hardly necessary - I'm sure that you're already aware of what I think." He kissed her neck once, then stepped away to don his own armor. "If you're reluctant about the choice, my offer of staying here for the night still stands."  
  
Her resolve hardened, she headed for her dressing room, where her handmaidens undoubtedly waited to assist her in getting ready. "You wouldn't be so lucky after your snide comments about Maylene," she retorted. "And besides, I doubt that you would want to miss an opprotunity to make fun of Kakkarott's dancing and table manners again."  
  
Vejita could say nothing to that - she had a valid point.  
  
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Radditz arrived at the celebration for Bulma and Vejita's baby exactly ten minutes late, or what Maylene would have called 'fashionably late'. He knew that if Vejita noticed his tardiness he would be scolded immediately and publicly degraded, but he figured that after chasing Maylene for two years, he had to go to desperate measures. And if being 'fashionably late' impressed her, then so be it.  
  
Normally, he would never go to such extreme measures for a woman. Most Saiyan women, upon hearing of his association with Prince Vejita and job with the elite soldiers, would throw themselves at him without question. Maylene was proving to be a different story. She had shown interest in him when they had first met on Earth, and several occasions since then, but she shared her evenings with too many different men to keep track of. He respected her for that, of course - he loved strong women - but it was getting to the point where he felt that he was being made into a mockery. He didn't miss the dry smiles his friends shot him when Maylene was nearby, but he couldn't ignore them, either. It was time to officially make his move.  
  
His hopes were temporarily crushed when he spotted Maylene across the banquet hall chatting with Bulma and Vejita. He would have felt comfortable approaching her with just Bulma there, with her naturally caring manner, but Vejita's presence was an entirely different matter. If Vejita caught on to Radditz's intentions with Maylene, he would never hear the end of it. So he waited.  
  
"She would be far more impressed if you would just approach her now," a voice chimed in from beside him.  
  
Radditz jumped - he was unaccustomed to being sneaked up on, and beheld the grinning face of Magdalene. "Your Majesty, you surprised me!"  
  
"I won't let Vejita know," she assured him.  
  
He was grateful for that. "I'm hoping to impress her in a different way - you know, one that won't earn me a lifetime of scorn from my future king."  
  
"You'll catch her, one of these days," Magdalene said confidently. "I actually think that she's playing a little hard-to-get with you. Why would she bother with that, if she wasn't interested?"  
  
"Because its funny as hell," Turles put in as he approached them. "You're like a pathetic, lovesick fool these days, Radditz. Snap out of it before she really gets to you."  
  
"Until you've experienced affection for a female, I suggest that you shut your mouth," Magdalene snapped at him. "Now move along and harass somebody else!"  
  
"You make it worse by protecting me like that!" Radditz groaned. "I'm completely fucked. I should just give up now."  
  
Then, miraculously, Vejita excused himself from the conversation and wandered away towards another group of men. It was as if Kami himself was looking down upon Radditz. He hastily excused himself from Magdalene's presence and hurried across the room, elbowing important planet leaders along his way and not even caring.  
  
"Lady Maylene," he greeted, coming to a rather ungraceful stop before her and Bulma. "Your Highness."  
  
Bulma's mischevious smile closely resembled Vejita's own. "Well look at you, Radditz - you were rather late to my celebration. Were you simply careless or did you not care to celebrate the presence of Vejita's heir?" Maylene smirked along with Bulma as Radditz juggled inwardly to find words. Women, he decided, were the ultimate evil.  
  
"I apologize for my lateness," he finally said. "Its not as if I missed the whole thing," he glanced at Maylene quickly, who watched him with mild interest. "I was just fashionably late."  
  
There was a moment of silence, and then suddenly both women broke out laughing. If he wasn't mistaken, he saw a tear or two grace Princess Bulma's eyes. Feeling hurt and embarrassed, he turned and started to merge back into the crowds.  
  
"Oh, for Kami's sake!" Maylene exclaimed. "I cannot believe that he flirts so blatantly with me!"  
  
"The poor man loves you with everything he's got," Bulma scolded her. "Go after him - I think that we've all had enough of your silly games."  
  
Maylene hesitated for a moment, then ran after Radditz. They both disappeared into the crowd, leaving Bulma looking after them. They would be together by the night's end, she guessed.  
  
"She doesn't deserve him, you know," Bulma commented, when Magdalene suddenly appeared at her side. "Even if she is my best friend."  
  
"They deserve each other," Magdalene corrected her. "You're forgetting that I've known Radditz his entire life. He's not the sweet fool that he makes himself out to be. I'm sure that he's done as much wrong as Maylene has."  
  
Bulma was silent, remembering the parties that Maylene used to slip off to, in complete disregard of her social station and duties that went along with it. She had even gone to a few, and even though she knew that it had been wrong, she had never had such a good time. She never really realized how much she had missed their friendship.  
  
Magdalene watched Bulma's eyes cloud over with memory, and said nothing to bring her out of the state. Bulma had seemingly made a miraculous emotional recovery over the past two years, but Magdalene and Vejita knew better. They had both noticed the shadow behind her sparkling blue eyes, always lurking but never overwhelming her. It had become a fact of life that Bulma would carry her sorrow with her forever. Magdalene, knowing how it felt to carry around sadness since her bad experiences with her husband, allowed Bulma her small moments of darkness. They were a necessary part of life, and she was willing to accept that. Vejita, however, was not so accepting, but was getting better about it.  
  
"I'm sorry," Bulma suddenly said, shaking herself out of her trance. "I was just thinking of something that happened a while back..."  
  
"Its alright," Magdalene interuppted. "You're entitled to a few memories, you know."  
  
Bulma's look softened, showing her gratitude. "It doesn't matter how much Vejita complains about you, Magdalene - you're wonderful."  
  
The Saiyan Queen just smiled and watched Bulma weave through the crowd (rather, travel through the space between as the crowds parted) towards Vejita, who sat on his throne, looking bored out of his mind. She thought of the moment that she would relinquish her power and hand the crown to Vejita, and suddenly she didn't feel so hot. She felt a hot flash coming on - dreaded menopause or simply anticipation of the strange days to come? She didn't know or care.  
  
"Bring me another drink," she ordered a nearby servant. "I'm going to need it."  
  
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"I'm almost afraid to ask what you two were talking about."  
  
Bulma rolled her eyes as she seated herself next to Vejita, who watched her expectantly. He was on edge a lot these days, not only because of their baby but also because of his eagerness to claim his place as king. She found herself excusing his sometimes rude behavior a lot more often as of late. This would not be one of those times, however.  
  
"Nothing that concerns you," she answered him, relaxing back into the throne. "I don't know why I let you get me this awful wrap. I feel like a third-class whore."  
  
"That would be Kakkarott's mate's job," Vejita said, watching Bulma closely for the angry reaction that was sure to come.   
  
"And these shoes are pinching my feet," Bulma continued complaining, ignoring Vejita's comment and obvious intent. "I feel like I've gained a hundred pounds."  
  
"I'd only say that you've gained ten or fifteen," Vejita observed coolly.   
  
Bulma shot him an evil look that only a pregnant woman could muster, and he actually felt a little bit sorry that he had made the comment. But only a little bit.  
  
"Hopefully you and Magdalene were talking about when she's finally going to admit that she's gone senile and is ready to give me the crown." He scowled ferociously. "I'm sick of waiting! I have a mate, I have an heir, and what does she do? Nothing! She throws me a fucking party." He angrily threw his wine glass into the crowd, causing people to scatter and head towards the other side of the room. It shattered in a satisfyingly loud manner.  
  
"You must have patience," Bulma said soothingly, entwining her thin fingers with his. "Magdalene is not senile, and you know it. She's merely going through a phase. Your time will come."  
  
"Not soon enough," Vejita growled, gripping her hand as tightly as he could without breaking the delicate bones. Bulma winced. "I've been ready to take over for years now, and my patience wears thin. I'm giving serious thought to overthrowing her again."  
  
"She's a wonderful ruler, and she's ushered in a long time of peace. Let her be - she's a wise woman, and won't stop you from ascending any longer than necessary."  
  
Vejita could not deny her logic, even if he didn't particularly want to hear it. He placed a protective hand on her abdomen, where he could feel his unborn child's ki, growing stronger every day. It was his version of consenting to her.  
  
Bulma smiled at his gesture. "Is it healthy?"  
  
He nodded. "Of course it is - its my child. I still can't understand why you won't allow me to tell you the sex - calling the child 'it' is hardly fitting for Saiyan royalty."  
  
"Its another one of my 'silly Earth customs'," Bulma told him sternly. "Its one of the only ones that I'm holding on to, so you have no room to complain. I want it to be a surprise."  
  
"Woman, you and the other human girl are the only people that do not know. We can all sense its ki."  
  
"Leave me alone about it, or I'll give Magdalene another reason to hold onto the throne longer," Bulma warned half-heartedly, knowing that it would effectively shut him up. Which it did.  
  
They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, observing the crowd. In the far corner of the room, Radditz and Maylene were practically eating each other's faces, with the people around them shooting disapproving looks their way. Naturally, neither one cared and continued their reunion. Kakkarott was hovering menacingly over the buffet table, with Chichi chattering on next to him, putting some food back when he took 'too much'. Magdalene was nowhere to be seen, which wasn't entirely unusual considering her behavior lately. Across the board, there were reasons for contentment. Bulma sighed, and Vejita indiscretly watched her out of the corners of his eyes.  
  
There was a sudden murmur in the crowd, which caused the two to sit up and look for the change. Magdalene had entered the room again, and she was accompanied by her royal guards. Behind her walked two servants, each carrying something wrapped in fabric of the imperial colors.  
  
"What's going on?" Bulma asked as Magdalene stopped before the thrones. Vejita was silent beside her, his eyes fixed on the object that the servant carried. The rest of the party had gone silent, watching them. "Magdalene?"  
  
"I think that it's past time I did this," the Saiyan Queen announced, gesturing to one servant, who moved up beside her. "This man carries something that has not been exposed to the public eye since the death of my husband, King Vejita. Yet even though it has not been seen or spoken of since his unfortunate downfall, it has remained in the minds of our people ever since."  
  
Bulma glanced at Vejita, who seemed to know what was going on. He had stepped forward, and was smirking triumphantly, bordering on smiling. She locked eyes with Maylene, who had pulled Radditz to the front of the crowd. She looked as confused as Bulma, which made her feel a little bit better.  
  
"Uncover it," Magdalene ordered the servant. The crowd leaned forward in anticipation as the servant pulled away the fabric and let it fall to the floor. Exposed now was a simple crown of a reddish metal, closely resembling the gold of Earth, which was encrusted with a small amount of blood red stones. Now Bulma guessed what was happening - Magdalene was handing over imperial control to Vejita at last. The crowd gasped in surprise at what was happening. "This is the crown that will coronate you as the King of Vejitasei," she announced needlessly. Then, she gestured to the other servant, who stepped forward and uncovered the other object. It was a more delicate crown, made of the same metal and gems, but in an unmistakably feminine way. "And this," Magdalene said, glancing at Bulma. "is the crown that will make Bulma the Queen."  
  
Vejita seized her hand and nearly tugged her forward to stand before Magdalene. Bulma was grateful for his taking charge, since she hadn't the slightest clue what she was supposed to do. Magdalene took the crown from the first servant and placed it upon Vejita's head, which earned her a wicked smirk from the new king. Then, she took the other crown and put on Bulma's head, being careful not to muss her intricate hairstyle. She winked as she did so, and Bulma could not help but relax.  
  
"It is done," she announced. Then, under her breath, "may Kami forgive me."  
  
Vejita pulled her a few steps back from Magdalene, who bowed deeply, followed by the entire room. Bulma gripped Vejita's hand as strongly as she could to conceal her nervousness. She had been in this position before, but certainly not willingly or happily. This was an entirely new experience for her. She drew comfort from Vejita, who she had never seen more smug.  
  
Thankfully, Vejita was distracted, or else he would have heard Maylene lean over and whisper to Radditz, "There goes the whole fucking empire."  
  
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Author's Note: And there you go - the end! The first happy ending I've written in... forever! It seems like this fic has become a big part of my life over the past year, as well as the people who have helped me along the way. I'm gonna thank a few...  
  
My eternal gratitude goes to Debido especially, who helped me to write the entire last chapter, and many others as well. You've been a great person to talk to, whether its about my fic or about what love really is, and for that I couldn't thank you enough! You catch every single detail in every chapter, whether I listen or not, and that has been something that will ultimately make me a better writer, just for fear that you'll expose all the mistakes I've made along the way! Thanks sooo much, and I'm sure that we'll chat again soon!  
  
I'd also like to thank all of the faithful reviewers who never fail to leave me a note, whether its short or a couple paragraphs long. Thanks to Noel (you know who you are!) for your thorough, e-mailed reviews, Sorceress Fujin for her reviews and chats, spontaneoushumancombustion, trunksgirl, Melina, Megami, The Rogue Raven, Ritty, and everyone else who reviewed and e-mailed! I'm sorry if I left anyone out - I'm in a rush to get this posted for y'all. Just know that I'm grateful for every single review!  
  
About my next fic... I'm not sure what I'm gonna do yet. I will be within the next month, so keep on checking my profile for updates on that. And please feel free to chat with me if you see me online! I'd love to talk! Thanks, and good-bye for now!  
  
--- Rhapsody   
  



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